A Different Kind of Love
by loveofallthatisawesome
Summary: He's sorta with Lissa. She's sorta with Sam. They both are best friends, but when a spark of jealousy comes up, it makes them doubt the feelings that they have for each other. Do "best friends" have the urge to kiss the other? All the time? Written by Keepdreaming93.
1. Chapter 1

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93 who has decided to delete her account and has given me permission to post this story on my account.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**INTRODUCTION: MAX POV**

The mirror hates my guts.

I'm not joking. I'm pretty sure that in a previous life, I really did something to screw up the dynamics and flow of all things in mirror-land, because it seriously, _seriously_ hates me. Like, with a passion. Like, hatred as in how teenage boys hate Justin Bieber and the way that his hair flows across his forehead...just...so. That's how much it hates me. And if you're in Junior High or live somewhere that's not a hole, you know just how deep that hatred really runs.

The mirror in my bathroom. I swear to god, somebody somewhere possessed this thing, and made it evil. Because every time that I look into it, I look _horrifying_. And, I guess I'm kind of used to it. Or I should be, at least. I've always been one of the guys. Rolling around in the mud and playing tackle football and starting food fights. I guess that I really shouldn't expect to do all of that and then turn out to be a supermodel. But really? Every. Single. Day? Did I have to be ugly _every day_? Couldn't the mirror just cut me a break?

I don't know why I even cared, though.

Why did I care? I've never cared before; why now? Senior year of high school. I suppose that I just want a change, maybe. Try something new. No, in no way was I going to stoop so low as to become someone like Lissa, but maybe I didn't have to be ugly anymore. Maybe I could just try out being decent looking. I'm sure I could pull it off. I mean, I didn't have any deformation or anything that made me ugly, I just decided not to care that much.

As I was twisting my hair around my finger, trying to think of ways that I could make it better, the door flung open. Jumping back with a squeal, I saw Fang walk in. My heart skipped. On its own. Oh, joy. Not only does the mirror hate me, but my own heart, too. That's the ultimate betrayal: when your own body hates you.

I didn't have a shirt on, just a bra and jeans, because I was still getting dressed when I got distracted by my ugliness. Any other decent guy would have left the bathroom, but Fang, he just stayed there and smirked. I rose my eyebrows, willing the blush to not appear on my cheeks, daring him to step further. He did, gently setting his fingers on my elbow to maneuver me out of the way so he could brush his teeth.

After I finally closed my mouth, which had been hanging wide open, I pulled my shirt over my head. Then, being the amazing person that I am, I leaned forward, tangled one of my hands in his _amazing_ hair, and slammed his face down onto the counter.

I think I saw blood but I wasn't sure, because I was already out of the door.

Later, I was sitting on the couch in the living room, reading a sports magazine. It was actually an interesting article, about bmx biking, but I didn't get to finish it because it was then yanked out of my hands very rudely. I looked up to see Fang, furious.

Yup, there was definitely blood. He didn't really show his anger this much.

"Hey," I said, whining and reaching for the magazine, my hands flailing in the air. He brought it higher, out of my reach. Douche bag. "Give it back!"

"You slammed my face into the counter!"

"You didn't leave the bathroom when I wasn't even dressed!"

From somewhere in the house I heard Iggy shout, "Go Fang!" And then Ella smacking him and telling him to shut up.

Mental note: Beat the shit out of Iggy later.

Boys suck. I mean, honestly. They just do. One of my favorite sayings. Boys are like purses. They're cute, full of crap, and replaceable. It's so true! Let's take Fang, for instance. He's totally cute. I'd never tell him that, but it doesn't change the facts. He's really, really hot. He's full of crap. He always says things that don't make any sense, and that's only when he actually _does_ talk! He barely even talks! But, he's not replaceable. He's my best friend. I can't just pick up a Fang from the corner. From there, I'll only get a STD or a hobo. Or a STD from a hobo.

Anyway, he's two out of three, though.

So he's, like, part purse, part boy.

Part purse, part very _hot_ boy.

This thought made me think of something else. What if my attraction to Fang was what was triggering this sudden wanting to change my appearance thing? I mean, it was very unlikely, because I didn't _like_ Fang, but still...

"Max?"

I snapped my head in Fang's direction. He'd dropped the magazine down and was now looking at me with a worried expression.

"You alright?"

I nodded, blushing. He looked confused, but let it go. He picked up the magazine and whacked me in the side of the head with it before leaving the room, saying over his shoulder, "Don't hurt my pretty face ever again, you asshole."

I sighed, still having the indecency to check out his butt as he left.

This was the start of something insanely terrible.

* * *

Note from loveofallthatisawesome: An anon pointed out in the other story I posted by keepdreaming93 that it is pathetic that I'm posting the stories up before KD93 has deleted her account. Right, well, the original author told me that it'd be better if I posted them up before she did delete her account so that she'd be able to tell the people who read her stories that they'd still be available on my account. _That's _why I'm posting them before she deletes her account. Just saying.


	2. Chapter 2

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

After I took my shower, I brushed through my hair, yes, without looking in the mirror, and slipped on some clothes before heading downstairs where everyone was sitting, eating waffles that my wonderful mother made for all of us.

Or maybe it was wonderful Iggy.

There was no way to know because they were all sitting there, while I got up _last_, made it to the table _last_. I slid into my seat next to Fang, where waffles were already awaiting me, as Nudge chattered on and on about something that nobody cared about, of course.

Then Fang leaned over and whispered, "Good morning, sleepyhead," right into my ear, making a pleasurable chill run down my spine and I began to shovel the waffles into my mouth like the ladylike seventeen year old that I was.

"Mall today?" Nudge asked everyone, like she did everyday.

"Nope," my mom said. "Today we are staying home. We are having a visitor over."

Turns out the visitor had a young, red haired, daughter. Turns out I hated that daughter. Turns out Fang definitely did not.

"Hey, Nick, do you wanna show me your room?" Lissa asked him.

This was after I watched them making googly eyes at each other all through dinner. And dessert. And now this. We were all in the living room, Gazzy and Nudge playing an intense game of chess, me sitting with Angel, watching them, Lissa's mom and my mom chatting away, and Iggy and Ella flirting. Majorly.

Ella and Iggy? Flirting?

Yeah, you heard me right. And it was maybe kind of cute. Or it was maybe absolutely disgusting.

I hadn't decided which yet.

"Yeah, sure," Fang replied to Lissa's cleavage, which was pouring out of her low cut shirt. You could see both of her _entire_ breasts. How attractive. Note my sarcasm. Well, the point is that Fang thought they were attractive, because now he was leading her up the stairs, as I turned a shade of red I didn't even know existed.

And over what? Fang? What the h-e-double hockey sticks was wrong with me? Okay, no more kid friendly language. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why did I care that Fang was going upstairs, with a red head (we know how he loves those so much), where they would probably talk, where he would probably kiss her, where it would turn into a full out make out session-

"Max."

Oh. Angel. She said my name about a million times, and she patted my hand.

"Yeah, sweetie?" I asked her, running my fingers through her angelic blonde hair. Oh, the irony.

"Don't be jealous of Lissa. You're way prettier than her. And Fang loves _you_."

I stood up abruptly, looking down at a frightened Angel.

"Jealous? Over _Lissa_? Why would I care who Fang is with?"

Which had to silence the entire room of course, because that's how it works when you overreact about a sexy, handsome, dark haired, dark eyed boy that was heading upstairs with a red headed bitch that happened to be my archenemy that I DIDN'T CARE ABOUT AT ALL.

That boy, who had also stopped in his tracks, the red-haired-wonder stopping with him. I tried not to focus on that they were holding hands and tried to focus on, well, what I was going to say to get out of this, taking my dignity with me.

But it wasn't possible.

"Max?" my mom asked. "What are you talking about?"

I looked around, flushing an even deeper red, at the open mouthed faces around me. Well, everyone except Lissa and Fang, who I didn't care about.

"I, uh, was explaining to Angel that I don't care who Fang goes out with," I said smoothly, like the smooth person that I am. Yup. That's me. All about being smooth.

Then Fang smirked, and-wait, no! How would I know he smirked! I wasn't even looking at him!

Okay, fine, I was. But only to see his reaction. Not because of the way his hair reached just below his eyebrows, or how he gently brushed it away with his fingertips to reveal those beautiful onyx eyes, or the lashes that surrounded them, luscious and full, like the feathers of a peacock, but dark and unbelievably more full-

There was something wrong with me. I should probably see a doctor.

"Why do you care who Fang goes out with?" Iggy asked.

"No! I said I _didn't_ care who he went out with!"

"But since you're saying that," Nudge inquired, "it really means that you _do_ care who Fang goes out with. And since you care who Fang goes out with you probably don't like that he's going upstairs with Lissa, but really, Max, you shouldn't worry about her. I mean, really, obviously Fang is into you and you're sooo much prettier-"

It's about time that Iggy smacked that hand over her mouth.

"Stop! You guys are putting words into my mouth!"

And then I stormed upstairs, past Fang and Lissa, and went into my room. And on my way past, Fang's hand brushed my...ass? What? No. His hand brushed my lower back, right above my waist line, and it was obvious that he moved to touch me because he was facing the other way before that. But that didn't matter. I just pulled a teenager move and stormed up to my room, complete with the squealing and-don't forget the door slam!

A little dramatic there, eh? Yeah. I know. It's all part of the brand-spankin-new Max plan.


	3. Chapter 3

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

I've decided to tell you what's going on here. I mean, how Fang, Iggy, Ella, Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel and I all live in the same house even though we're not related. Okay, so Gazzy and Angel are, and sort of Ella and I, and Valencia and I, but-you know what I mean. It's weird.

So as I am lying down on my bed, pouting about my humiliation and being oddly jealous of Lissa, I'm thinkin' what the hey, might as well tell you the story of my life.

Just in case you're bored or anything.

Fang, Iggy, Nudge, Gazzy, Angel, and I have always been together. We all grew up in the same group home, which wasn't hell, but wasn't the most pleasant, either. , the lady who ran the place, didn't pay us too much attention to all of us. I guess she had better things to do, like lounging around making her steady way toward weighing 450 pounds by eating chocolates every day of her life.

So Fang and I, who had lived in rooms across from each other, decided to kind of start taking care of the younger kids, since it was only a matter of time of neglecting and basically being left to live on their own before they became officially screwed.

We started to take care of them, and we gradually became best friends.

At fifteen, turns out whoop-de-friggin-do! I had a _mother_. And she found me, gave me this whole teary eyed speech on how she had been looking for me for years, and she showed up as my biological mother, so I got to go home with her.

But there was no way I was leaving my new family behind. I told her that I wouldn't leave without them, and, being the amazing, beautiful mother that she is, adopted all of us.

Fang and I remained the best of friends.

We started going to school.

Everyone loves Dr. Valencia Martinez.

Ella is great.

Seems perfect, right? Right. Except that now I was _jealous_, over _Lissa_, and everything was screwed because I am turning into a teenager, the real kind, not the kind who has always been about surviving, and taking care of everyone.

A real one, with emotions, who goes to the school, who has tantrums. What am I becoming?

Normal.

This is not good.

**Fang's POV:**

"Why is your room so plain?" Lissa asked, plopping down on my bed, looking around the room with wide eyes, like white walls were the most interesting thing in the world.

I shrugged. Like usual.

"Well..." she said, like I was supposed to know what she meant when she said something like well.

"Why did you want to come up here?" I asked. "I told you it was plain."

Any dude would've killed to be alone in a room with Lissa, our head cheerleader, the one so skinny you could see her ribs. The one that was sauntering over to me, a mischievous look in her heavily make-upped eyes. Then she had her hands on my chest, and she was kissing me, like this was completely normal, to kiss a guy that you don't even know likes you.

I let her kiss me, even though I wasn't kissing her back, not even touching her, as her hands slid around my neck and tangled in my hair. She tasted like...cherries, kinda? Not really. Now she was practically hurting me, or at least trying to, smashing her mouth into mine roughly. She was probably disappointed that she wasn't getting any reaction.

I didn't even know why I wasn't kissing her, actually. I mean, she was hot, I guess, and I really loved red heads, and god, she obviously wanted me, judging by her full display of her boobs to me in the living room, and now this, making out thing we had going on...I should be kissing her back. My hands moved to her sides, not pulling her closer, just resting there, on her hips. But you know what happened when she started sucking on my neck?

I thought of Max.

Yeah. My best friend, Maximum Ride, the one who just had her little blowout in the living room a few minutes earlier, which she never had, over me. And how she didn't care about me and Lissa. And you know what I was thinking? I was thinking about how Max would be so much better at this than Lissa. And I didn't even know that because I've never made out with her. And then I was thinking about how I wished this was Max.

I'm so completely screwed.

Because I did wish it was Max, who wanted me like this. Who was on me like glue, who was completely blunt with her feelings toward me. Okay, so I guess Max was like that. She wasn't confusing, exactly. Nope, she made it PERFECTLY CLEAR that we were just best friends when she stormed off earlier, saying just that. Why was I mad and upset that she thought of us as friends and nothing more? Why did I care what we were?

What was going on?

Oh. Lissa was still sucking on my neck. Oh, crap, I couldn't get a hickey. Max would see it-so what if Max saw it?

But I had Lissa off of me by the time I thought that, and she was in front of me, looking disappointed and a little embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," I told her. "It's just, I don't know what's going to come of this, you know? I don't know if I want anything to come of this. It's not that you're not pretty, and...I don't know. I'm just confused right now."

I'm sure that made perfect sense to her. I mentally replayed what I said to her, and concluded that I sounded like a total douche. I mean, I started to kiss her back, and as soon as that happened, I pushed her off and told her straight out that I didn't want to be with her. But who just throws them self at someone? Plus, she was really mean to Max at school and everything, so I shouldn't like her anyways. And I didn't like her. I liked Max.

I liked Max?

Oh, Lord, what was happening to me?

No. I didn't like Max. I love her. In a best friend way. We've been best friends since forever, and nothing had changed since then except that maybe Max had gotten prettier, with longer hair, a beautiful body, fuller lips-

Lissa was still in my room. Crap.

"We should head down, don't cha think?" I said casually, stuffing my hands in the pocket of my dark jeans.

She stared at me, wide eyed. "Did you seriously just reject me?" she shrieked. I guess she'd been acting all calm in preparation for that.

"Lissa," I said, "you could get any guy you want, so why don't you...I mean, there are better people out there for you. We're not right for each other-"

"Yeah," she laughed, kind of sort of maybe, "any guy. Except you! And all of the other guys who like Maximum Ride. Like she's all marvelous. First of all, what kind of name is that?"

She said that to a guy named Fang. But I guess she thought my name was Nick.

"And I'm the cheerleader. She's the girl who can beat up people. Who wants a girl like that? It's like she's a guy. It's so gross. I swear, the day Maximum Ride wears a skirt, I will kill myself. And she's not even pretty. At all. And yet-hey! All the guys suddenly want her-!"

Now she was pissing me off.

"Lissa, she's beautiful," I said softly. I said something meaningful? Softly? Huh?

"Oh! So it's true!" She stepped forward. "You like Max, too. God, why? What is so goddamn special about a fuh-reak like her? Huh?"

"I don't like her. She's my best friend. Now get the hell out of my room."

She leaned up on her tip toes to my ear, then whispered, "You'll be mine, Nick, I swear, and you will love it."

Didn't she just sound so scary? The skinny, pathetic, pretty little girl who had absolutely no guts, and the scariest part of her were those stilettos she wore on her feet that made a clicking sound as she left the room, furious.

And that is how I came to hate Lissa. Being hot can only get you so far.

**Max's POV:**

SO THIS IS WHAT I HEARD, from my room, a few rooms down from Fang's.

Lissa insults me. She insults my name. She sarcastically says that I'm marvelous.

Fang says...nothing.

Lissa calls me a guy.

See these boobs? My long hair? The shirt that I'm wearing, for god's sake?

Lissa brags about herself. Typical. She says that I'm not pretty. She says that the day I wear a skirt she will kill herself.

Fang says nothing. Again.

Lissa accuses Fang of liking me. Then she says something about me being a freak.

Fang says that he doesn't like me. Then he says something that I can't hear.

Then I hear nothing, and I guess they're making out again.

Isn't that, like, most ROMANTIC thing that you've ever heard? It just warms my heart.

I screamed into my pillow as loud as I could because nobody could hear, and then I had the sudden urge to kill Fang. I grabbed the edge of the bed to keep myself from doing so, and screamed again.

I swear, the day Maximum Ride wears a skirt, I will kill myself.

I stopped screaming and lifted my head so that a mischievous grin could form on my ugly, freakish, un-marvelous face.

Lissa, oh beautiful, red haired Lissa: prepare to die.


	4. Chapter 4

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**Max POV:**

Nudge was the most perfect person for this. She and Ella had the most wonderful time dressing me up and doing my hair and makeup like I was a freaking Barbie doll.

I wasn't enjoying it as much as they were. I basically sat there, holding back screams as they did everything for me, including the shopping. They enjoyed that the most, I think.

"Oh, my god, when we saw this, we knew right away it was perfect for you, Max."

Which basically meant that it was wrong for me.

I was incorrect.

It was absolutely terrible for me.

It was too low, too girly, too flowery, too everything!

But I put that low cut, flowery shirt on with a jean miniskirt that barely covered my ass, and they put in a headband, one with a blue flower on it, so that my blonde curls flowed evenly around it. I would barely let them put any makeup on me, so they just put eyeliner and mascara, the lightest blue you could imagine, and a clear lip gloss that went over my pink lips.

I wasn't being treated like a Barbie.

I was a freaking Barbie.

"Oh, my god," Ella said, and I thought that something went drastically wrong. Like nothing could cure my ugliness. "You look gorgeous."

"Beautiful."

"Stunning."

"Amazing."

"Breathtaking."

Etc.

"Okay. Let's just go."

"To the mall?" Nudge asked, excited.

I looked at her as I stood up from the chair, not looking in the mirror. On purpose.

"To breakfast. But we can go to the mall after, if you want."

She squealed in delight. Ella smiled brightly. I mentally groaned.

So I emerged from my room, Ella and Nudge after me, after I told them not to tell anyone that _they_ dolled me up, and went into the hallway.

There I had my encounter with my first person.

"Oh my, Max," Iggy said.

"Shut up, Iggy. You can't even see me. You're blind, need I remind you."

"I know, but, you're, I don't know. I can just tell."

Which meant that Ella told him she was dressing me up.

"You smell really good," he said.

"Thanks, buddy," I replied, then Ella and Nudge split off as I made my way downstairs.

"Oh. My. God."

Gazzy.

With that, my mom's head turned, along with Fang's, and Ella and Nudge also faked their surprise as they came down from the stairs. My mom smiled, this weird, mischievous smile that kind of creeped me out.

Fang's jaw dropped wide open. It surprised me when I realized that's what I wanted. I wanted him in awe of me, to want him to want me, since he decided _not_ to stand up for me while Lissa insulted me.

So when his eyes roamed all over my body, lingering at my legs and chest, I simply smiled sweetly, like I knew how to play this role perfectly.

"Wow, Max," Gazzy said. "You look..."

"Incredible," Fang breathed. I tried with everything I had not to blush. I wasn't sure if I did or not.

"What's for breakfast? It smells delicious."

Nobody answered me. My mom laughed quietly and turned back to the stove, Gazzy left his eyes wide open, Nudge and Ella joined us, Iggy was doing whatever he was doing, and Fang practically raped me with his beautiful onyx eyes.

"It's rude to stare," I snapped.

He met my eyes with his own, blinked. "What's all this for?" he asked.

"Got a problem with it?"

"No, not at all."

He didn't look like he minded, eyes raking over my body in a way that made me slightly uncomfortable. I moved to the table as my mom set plates down. Iggy game down the stairs, and both him and Fang came and sat on either side of me, and Fang moved his chair closer.

Iggy and Ella started flirting right away, and my mom and everybody else were talking about me and my new style and what not. Fang just stared. Nudge looked proud.

Then it came, like every morning: "Mall today?"

"Yes. Perfect," I replied. Everybody looked at me, wide eyed. But I wasn't crazy. I just really wanted to kill Lissa, and she was there, every freaking day.

Right where I knew she would be, sitting at a booth with Brigid and Aleah, chatting, eating ice cream. A guy whistled as I passed, just like other guys had been doing all frigging day. Whistle, say, "Damn, girl," or "Holy shit" and stuff like that, Fang would tense up next to me and mumble things under his breath.

Guys suck. They really do.

I mean, do they honestly expect me to turn around, shake their hand, introduce myself to them like I actually would like to date a sexist pig like that? Morons.

"What is your problem, Fang?" I asked him as he mumbled yet another thing under his breath. He looked up at me, meeting my eyes through heavily lashed ones. Any girl would kill for those eyelashes, that beautifully dark skin, those lips, perfectly sized and parted and probably warm and hungry-

Oh sweet baby Jesus. I am _not_ swooning over Fang.

"Nothing," he said, looking at the floor now.

"Yeah. That's why you keep mumbling stuff under your breath when a guy notices me," I say sarcastically. It's just us two, the rest of the kids had spread out, into various stores and what not.

I take a step closer.

"Nothing, Max, it's stupid." He sounded really, really cute when he said that.

"What you think isn't stupid," I tell him. What happened to being mad at him? Not caring? Down the drain, that's where it went.

"God, it's just...you shouldn't go out like that."

My face falls. I can physically _feel_ my face fall, my cheeks flush, and I'm the scared girl I was yesterday.

Then confident Max comes back out.

I take a step closer, our chests almost touching, and place a finger under his chin to tilt his head up so that he's forced to meet my eyes.

"So you're saying you don't like it?"

Holy crap, did I just say that? Did I just say it _like_ that, all low and husky and...sexy?

Well, he's staring, biting his lip, so I suppose I did. God, he's biting his lip. I can imagine that bottom lip, between the two of mine, me sucking that lip into my mouth, tracing that bottom lip with the very tip of my tongue.

"Max, you look really hot," he admits, "it's just that you look really hot to _everyone_. All these stupid guys hitting on you..."

I smirk. "Why do you care?"

"I don't know. I just do. I mean" -now he's smiling, which kind of is freaking me out- "it's fine for you to get all dressed up for me, but just, in public...?"

I'm pissed off. Very pissed off.

"Honey," I say, bravely running a hand down his very, very hard, muscular chest, to his abs (also rock hard!) and then up again. He shivers, and something is pressing against my stomach (any guesses to what that may be?) and I pinch his cheek. "This wasn't for you."

Then I leave him to have fun with his massive boner.

I go to Sam, which is a dick, but it doesn't matter. I feel tempted to kiss him, because that sure would make Fang jealous, but I knew I would regret it afterward, wish that I hadn't, so I didn't. I simply gave him a hug, a lingering hug, and he, too, has a boner. I pull back and leave my fingers on his bicep.

"Wow, Max." He gulps and drinks me in, making me not flattered, like Fang was making me, but uncomfortable. He looked like he was going to rip my clothes off and fuck me right there. "You look beautiful."

Okay, I had to admit that was flattering. Fang calling me hot was cool, but beautiful was better. I hated Sam being better than Fang. He wasn't better, I guess. Just better at that moment.

"Thank you," I say, rolling my shoulders back.

"Well, it's um, almost noon, you want to go get lunch or something?"

"Uh, well, I'm here with Nick, and I don't know..."

Sam glanced over my shoulder, while I looked at him and those hazel eyes.

"He looks perfectly fine to me," Sam said. I looked over to Fang. Lissa's there, her hand on his bicep, breasts on his chest. I want to gag, but instead I look over to Sam and smile.

"Alright, let's go," I say, taking his hand, dragging him passed them.

"Max?" she shrieks loudly, and the small part of the mall that we are occupying shuts up, leaving me, Lissa, Fang, and Sam. Oh, and the silence.

"Lissa?" I mimic.

The mall goes back to their conversations, probably thinking one of those over dramatic teenage reunions was occurring.

Thank god.

"What the hell...?"

"Ready to die?"

She looks confused.

"Huh?"

"'The day that Maximum Ride wears a skirt I will kill myself.'" I quoted her. Fang's eyes pop open wide.

Success.

**FANG POV:  
**  
Max heard. She heard what Lissa said to me. Holy shit.

"Lissa, does this qualify as a skirt?" she asked innocently.

Then she not-so-innocently put her hand on her knee and slid it slowly up her leg, her thigh, and underneath that tiny piece of fabric that was covering where I wanted her most.

Bigger boner. Hey, buddy, meet Max, your whole reason for existence.

Lissa stared at her. "Hm. Dramatic, Maximum. From freaky prude to slut in, what, six hours? I must say I'm impressed."

"Me, a slut? Really? May want to look in the mirror before you go off and tell other people that, Lissa." It's funny, because even though Max could have totally burned Lissa by now with her being a smart ass and all, she chose to be kind of nice with it.

Why in the world...?

But I had to admit, Lissa was a slut. Extremely slutty.

Sam grabbed Max's hand-wait, Sam? Why was the dick touching Max?

But before I could retaliate they were gone, his arm slipped around her shoulders like he owned her, Lissa staring at me.

"Can you believe her?" she asked me, stepping closer. "I mean, I never would have thought she would make a drastic change like that. Well, she can't wear it well anyways. She's not...pretty enough."

I wanted to laugh.

Lissa was pretty, sure. But she wasn't pretty enough to say that Max wasn't pretty. You had to be abnormally, genetically modified pretty to be prettier than Maximum Ride.

And nobody in the world was that pretty, therefore making Max the prettiest girl in the world. Yesterday she was the prettiest girl in the world and now, today, she's a million times prettier.

Which makes her...?

She's just perfect, I guess.

"Lissa, what are you doing here?" I ask, almost under my breath.

"What do you think I'm doing here?" She runs a hand down my chest and it doesn't feel anywhere close to as great as it felt when Max did it. "For you to tell me that you changed your mind."

Her fingers slipped underneath my t-shirt and she traced my abs, making my breath hitch.

"Excuse me, sorry."

Max. Max just saved me. Lissa's fingers moved from my shirt and flew to her side.

I turn barely toward Max-damn, she looks so hot-as she reaches into my back pocket and slips out her wallet.

"Sorry. I forgot this was in here."

Then I swear to god Max pats my butt and she's off again, Sam not bothering to draw an arm around her shoulders this time.

Max looks really, really gorgeous. Max _is_ really, really gorgeous. She was gorgeous in jeans in a tee shirt, helping the kids learn how to make brownies, in sweats and a tanktop, tucking the kids into bed, and now, in a miniskirt and girly top, the clothes perfectly defining her features, she was gorgeous. I wanted her: her looks and her attitude. Her smart ass remarks, her tendency to hit me, how she takes care of Angel even though she has a real mom, now, her chocolate eyes, beautiful and aware, her honey hair, cascading down her back in curls, streaks of light in it, her lips, her blush, her body. I wanted her-every part of her.

And she was my best friend.

"Lissa, I haven't changed my mind."


	5. Chapter 5

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**Max POV:**

I was starting to think that shopping wasn't all that bad, when, right on cue, a group of teenagers came in the store, squealing and screaming about some guy named Josh and how he-omigawd-looked at one of them.

"How did he look at you?"

"Like I was the only thing on the planet that he saw."

Gag.

I moved away from the group, pulling out my cell phone. Nudge was somewhere in this entirely too girly store with me, I told Sam to go home because he kept touching me,Ella and Iggy were off somewhere, Angel and Gazzy stayed home, and Fang was...?

I called him after I told everyone else that we were going to go. They groaned. I didn't give a damn.

"Hey." His voice was chocolate. Dark chocolate. Delicious.

"Hi. Are you ready to go?" I kind of maybe forgot that I was mad at him for a second there.

"Oh, am I taking you home?"

"Uh, you drove us here..."

"So you're not going home with Sam."

He was kind of cute being jealous. Even over the phone.

"Not unless I want to get raped, no."

Fang didn't laugh. I didn't expect him to.

"Yeah. I'm ready to go."

One word to describe Fang and I:

Awkward.

In capital, sparkly, lit-up letters. It was probably because today we discovered that we maybe had more than best friends feeling for each other. Or at least I discovered that. If his jealousy was any indication of how he felt, then hopefully he did, too. I hoped he did.

Because I was feeling pretty damn stupid right about now.

I sat up from my bed, though I wasn't sleeping, and sighed, running my fingers through my hair. I tugged my tanktop down, which had ridden up my stomach, then stood up.

I padded down the hallway to the restroom, and didn't bother knocking before I opened the door. I could hardly breathe.

Ella was sitting on the sink counter, hands on Iggy's hips, him standing between her legs, hands in her hair. Her knees on the sides of him, his shirt on the floor.

_Making. Out._.

Ella and Iggy were making out. They didn't even seem to notice me, and so I slowly backed away, then ran to Fang's room, screaming.

Okay, so maybe I wasn't screaming. But I did run.

"Fang."

I was out of breath by the time I was down the hall, threw the door open, and found him sitting on the edge of his bed, on his laptop. I shut the door and flicked on the light.

"Max," he mimicked, just as dramatic.

I felt like murdering him real quick. I resisted and sat next to him. I suddenly forgot all the drama that happened today, the awkwardness, the jealousy, the swooning, and we were best friends, me talking to him about what was on my mind, him listening. Him talking to me, me listening.

He shut the laptop and set it on the floor, quietly moved it under his bed with his heel.

"What's up?"

"Iggy and Ella. Making out. In the bathroom."

I was still breathing heavy and I let out a shaky sigh.

Fang shrugged. "So?"

My eyes popped open wide. "What do you mean 'so'?"

He twiddled his thumbs together with out looking at me. "It's not a big deal, Max. They're...in love. Or at least they think they are."

I wanted to barf, but that's not much of a turn on, is it?

"It is a big deal. They're practically brother and sister!"

Fang moved closer to me on the bed, our legs almost touching.

"But we've known each other longer than Iggy and Ella and so it would be wrong if we were ever to get together?"

I gulped and bit my bottom lip, not able to meet his eyes, drilling into me. I glanced at his lips instead, and didn't say a word.

"But we won't," I said softly, hardly able to breathe.

"Yeah," Fang agreed, and even though I said it first, it still hurt.

"But I mean," I tried, then wasn't sure what I was even trying to say. "I guess it's not bad. For them to be together, us, even, like, Nudge and Gazzy, if we're not related..."

Nobody said anything for awhile, and we were back to being awkward.

"No," I said. "It wouldn't be wrong."

Just in case he wanted to get together, I wanted to make sure he knew that I was fine with it.

Again, we both said nothing.

"Actually, they're kind of cute," I told Fang.

"Yeah. We would be."

My breathing caught. Did Fang seriously say that we would be cute? No. I'm...delusional. Fang does not say the word cute. Period. But he didn't say it...?

"Fang?" I asked and he turned his head to look at me. His beautiful, dark haired, unbearably handsome, perfect skin toned head. "Was I mean to you today?"

I asked that instead of why he liked Lissa, why we were just friends, if he liked me, if he thought I was pretty.

"Nah, Max."

"Okay," I said. We both sounded really dumb. "Well...goodnight."

"Oh. Bye."

I gulped and stood, feeling the awkward in the air around me, thick, and headed for the door.

"Max?" I spun around too quickly, I think, and he looked surprised.

"Yeah?"

He hesitated, chewing his bottom lip, then let out a heavy sigh.

"Goodnight."

He folded his arms across his chest and watched me for a bit before I turned and left his room, clicked the door shut.

I dreamed of those arms around me, pulling me close. My back to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Those arms around my waist, moving me in for a chaste kiss. My hands on his chest for a not-so-chaste kiss. His arm on my hip, fingers drawing on the bare skin of my back.

This, what we had, may have been more than liking each other.

But being in love with your best friend ends in disaster.

**FANG POV:**

I almost told her tonight. Pulled her back to sit beside me on the bed, ran my fingers down her blushing cheek, her slender neck, moved her hair to the side to kiss her shoulder and then bring my lips to her ear, tell her that she means the world to me.

But the fear of her rejection was coursing through my veins, just as the excitement of her acception was, and I clenched the comforter in my fists, released it, and told her goodnight.

Because being in love with your best friend ends in disaster.

I need to decide whether the pain is worth the possibility of being with the one and only girl that I love. For now, it's not. Because losing her as my best friend is too much of a risk, and even a miniskirt, her beautiful eyes, pink lips, and her glorious chest won't force me to take it.

So I let her go, locked my door, and went to sleep.

I dreamed of those lips to my cheek, my ear, whispering that she loved me. On my own lips, tasting sweet. On my neck, taking the skin into her mouth. On my chest, on my heart.

Max is worth the disastrous ending.


	6. Chapter 6

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:  
**  
Guess what? I realized that I actually like my new style. Okay, so it's uncomfortable and I hate that part, but having everybody stare at you, guys falling at their knees before you, and a girl like Lissa wanting to murder you is pretty great sometimes.

Plus, Nudge and Ella really, really loved dressing me up, and you know, I'm all about making other people happy and everything.

School. It's Monday, and I'm at this hell hole, looking like a Barbie, people gawking at me when I pass like I'm some celebrity or something. I'm not going to lie. I hated attention, but I'm kind of loving it right now. It's flattering.

"Hey, Max," Sam said, eyes sweeping over me, coming over to walk next to me. I heard Fang let out an annoyed huff.

"Hi," I replied, giving him a smile. With that, Fang left, not even saying goodbye. What a pussy. It's not like it's my fault Sam came over to me. And he didn't, like, kiss me or anything. Just said hi.

"So I was thinking," Sam said from beside me, "like, we could go out or something sometime? Maybe like a movie, or dinner..."

I barely heard him. All I was focused on was Lissa, how she was pressed up against the wall, Bryce Martins in front of her, her hands tangled in his hair, bringing him closer and closer. I stared, watching them make out, wondering what the _hell_ was wrong with that girl.

Bryce is cute, I suppose, but compared to Fang he might as well have been a nerd in the corner, snorting his Mac and cheese out his nose in some national nerd food snorting competition. Because Fang, he's gorgeous. And I couldn't find a reason in a million years to cheat on him, because he's the best you can get.

Lissa is such a bitch it's disgusting.

For right then, I thought of Fang as a friend. Or at least tried to. If this was any of my other friends, I would be this pissed, too, right? If this was any of my other friends, I would do the same thing that I'm doing now, right?

Right?

I mumbled a sorry to Sam faintly before marching over to Lissa and Bryce, which would have been much more comfortable in my usual jeans-and-a-tee outfit.

"Hey, Lissa," I greeted her and in two seconds they unattached themselves from each other's lips and tongues and hips and looked at me. Bryce started checking me out, and I instantly hated him for it. You have a freaking girlfriend! But Fang was checking me out, and he has a girlfriend! The same girlfriend as Bryce, actually.

My thought process is really screwed up right now, actually. My own thoughts keep interrupting me, and it's pissing me off.

"Max," she greeted me while Bryce's eyes decided that they liked being FREAKING GLUED to my chest.

"Where's Nick?" I asked sweetly, because I'm all about that sweet shit.

She turned pink and looked at Bryce for a split second before turning back to me. Then she shrugged.

Then I punched her in the face. Multiple times.

Okay, part of my beating the crap out of her was selfish. I've always hated her. I mean, she's always been mean to me, like I'm a piece of dirt-yeah, a piece of dirt that can kick your ass!-and so when my fist made contact with her bony, make-up covered cheek, it felt pretty damn good.

So I did it again. And again. And again.

I beat her up for four years of being a total bitch to me PLUS her cheating on Fang, and so she turned out pretty bad. Bryce kind of just stood there, then he eventually walked away, like this wasn't his business. Which it wasn't, really, but still. You don't just freaking walk away while your girlfriend is getting the shit beat out of you.

It's Boyfriend 101.

Anyway, after I got all of my anger out, I simply walked away, with a few teeny tiny scratches from Lissa's nails, because that was the only thing she could do to defend herself from the almighty Max.

She cried after me, cussing in her naturally high pitched voice as I made my way down the halls, and what should I find, bleeding, cussing, looking like hell, in the same condition as Lissa?

Sam.

I went over to him, not all that urgent, and knelt beside him, careful not to let him see under my skirt.

"Sam? What the hell happened to you?" I said, forcing my voice to sound concerned.

He looked at me, stumbling to his feet and wiping blood from his nose and cheek and forehead- holy crap. He's hurt bad. Too bad I don't care.

Like, at all. This is weird. I'm supposed to care. Sam's totally in love with me.

"You're freaking dickhead boyfriend randomly jumps me, and I didn't do shit to him," he grumbles.

It seemed cute, a boyfriend beating up his possible competition, and all. Better than Bryce to Lissa, and all. But, one thing...

"Sam, what boyfriend?"

"Nick!" he screamed at me, and then he stumbled to the office. I was too confused to help him there.

So I beat up Lissa and Fang beat up Sam on the same day, at the same time.

What a coinkydink.

It was fifth period and the news about Sam and Lissa had been spread around, people whispering about it, passing notes-all the typical stuff. People liked me even more that I beat up the head cheerleader. I could have my own fan club.

"Max's hot and totally kickass," one guy whispered behind me to Fang, which isn't the greatest idea ever.

But before he could do anything but roll his eyes, the overhead speaker sounded over our heads, in the secretary's annoying, nasally voice.

"Maximum Ride and Nicholas Martinez, please report to the office; Maximum Ride and Nicholas Martinez please report to the office."

I looked back at Fang as we both stood, and he shrugged, like he had no idea how we could possibly be getting in trouble, since we're such angels, right?

Nah. Actually, Fang and I usually got in trouble. Since we share a few of the same classes, we usually walk up to the office together, or ditch together, because us bad kids team together like that. Plus, we're best friends. So he fell into step beside me, and we walked up to the office as slowly as possible, smiling at each other like retards. We didn't talk until we got to the office, and we sank into their cheap chairs, observing the busy atmosphere around us, like everybody sitting there on their asses doing nothing.

"Maximum?" Our principal called from his office, motioning me inside with one finger. I shot him an annoyed glance. I knew him well, since I'd been in his office more than any other student, so he knew very well that my name is Max.

"Good luck," Fang whispered with a smile, swatting my butt as I stood and walked into the office. So I was bright red when I got in there, of course. I sat down in "my chair", thoughts of Fang running through my mind at 190mph, as he talked to me about Lissa, how I couldn't beat up people just because I felt like it, how I needed to control my temper, how "although, I must say, I'm impressed, Max. Maybe you should try out for our boxing team." blah blah blah.

You see, principal Jenkins and I are friends. He likes me, and although I do get in trouble by him a lot, it's only because he has to do his job. So I got suspended for the week, which isn't even a punishment, really, and I was on my way. Oh, my mom had to come and pick up me and Fang, and take us home. Fang didn't talk about beating the crap out of our enemies, simply smiled, as we drove back home.

I hated and loved that we were slowly slipping out of our awkward stage and into our friendship again.

Yeah, we were back, Fang and I, because we were fighting. Again.

**FANG POV:**

Max and I were fighting. Again. Like old times. Except in a way, it wasn't like old times, because it wasn't about control, about strength. It was about our sensitive side, about our relationship. And it was a hell of a lot scarier than before, let me tell you.

"You are _so_, so stupid, Max!" I screamed, not worrying about staying quiet since it was only us two in the house. "I mean, you _seriously_ are going out with dickhead Sam? You're only doing it to make me jealous."

Trust me, it was working. Big time.

Her cheeks burned. "Freaking idiot! Why would I waste my precious time making _you_ of all people _jealous_? And you know what?" Max snapped, taking yet another step closer to me, forcing me back against the wall. I gulped. "When you called me hot the other day, and you probably thought you were being so sweet, Sam called me_beautiful_. That's what I want to hear from a guy. That's why I'm going to go out on a date with Sam."

Her cheeks flushed red and she looked even more beautiful, as she took a step back. She turned around to storm off, like she'd been doing often lately, but I grabbed her hand without even thinking, and turned her around to face me.

"Max," I said softly.

She jerked her hand away from mine. "What?"

"I _always_ think you look beautiful." It was hard for me to admit something like that, especially to Max, but she had to know that. Because I kind of felt like a douche for just calling her hot when she was so much more.

She laughed humorlessly and shook her head, then she turned to leave again.

"Don't date Sam," I told her and she spun around in a split second.

"_Why_?" she spat.

Because I love you, because you should date me, because I'm right for you, because you're far too beautiful.

"Because he's a douche."

She opened her mouth to scream at me, but then she closed it, and just glared, breathing in deeply.

It was terrifying, I must say.

"You of all people shouldn't be talking about being a douche. Don't talk about Sam." Her calm voice, quite frankly, was more scary than her yelling. "I don't talk about Lissa-"

"You punched her in the face," I pointed out. "And broke her nose."

"Shut up, Fang!"

Ah. So she was back to the screaming. That's what she did when she didn't have a smart ass comeback: just told me to shut up.

"That was only because-" she stopped. I smirked.

"Because...?" I asked. "Because why, Max?"

Ah. Now I see.

"Speak clearer. Why did you punch her?"

"Because she cheated on you!" She screamed in my face.

I liked the jealous Max. She was pretty hot.

"How can she cheat on me when we aren't even dating?" I asked her.

"What?"

I smiled. "We made out a few times but I wouldn't date her," I explained.

With this her mouth dropped wide open.

"_What_?" she hissed. "So I punched her for no reason?"

"I guess...," I said.

"No. She's mean to me. There. Now I have a reason to punch her."

She said this like she just beat me at a game, or got a higher grade on a test than me.

"Alright, then."

"Well why did you beat up Sam, then?" she said, a cute, mischievous grin sneaking its way to her mouth.

"So you know about that."

"Duh," she replied.

"Because...um, I don't think I'm going to tell you."

"You drive me crazy," she said, biting her bottom lip, a tiny little smile escaping.

Her mood was lightening. Good sign.

"You, too, thanks," I said, and she left.

I sighed, slumping against the wall.

Max was the sexiest, cutest, smartest, most beautiful pain in the ass in the history of pains in the ass.

I hated being in love. It really made someone sane like me go crazy and irrational, and I was really getting tired of it. I wanted to stop loving her, to be able to stop _feeling_ all weird around her, like I had to make her happy, had to make her love me, too.

I wanted it all to stop. But Max was making that pretty damn hard.

**MAX POV:**

Fang is the sexiest, cutest, most gorgeous, most perfect haired asshole in the history of assholes. Does he think that he's just going to get away with making me freaking _love_ him without having to pay?

Because really, he had to stop. It was getting on my nerves, all this gushy-mushy crap that was beginning between us. Where we weren't at each other's throats all day, and him touching me softly, me thinking all these unviolent thoughts toward him.

I suddenly ran back into Fang's room, no thoughts whatsoever in my brain and said, "I lied. I'm not going out with Sam. He's kind of a pervert, and I don't really know why I told you that I _was _going out with him. I mean, I guess it's because I knew you would get jealous, and I _liked _you being jealous, but I don't know why!" His face was full of shock. "What the hell is going on with us, Fang?"

He blinked and it gave me a time to think. This was pretty much what it went like:

1) I just barged into Fang's room and screamed nonsense  
2) I'm a total freaking psychopath  
3) Fang is aware that I am a total freaking psychopath  
4) Holy shit  
5) Fang doesn't have a shirt on  
6) Fang has a six pack  
7) Fang is so, so sexy  
8) I, Maximum Ride, am swooning over my best friend

Then, equally as psychopathic as before, I said, "Like this. Right now. I'm staring at your body. Why the _hell_ am I doing that? We're best friends!"

So this is around the time where I go into a corner and die slowly of shame. But, instead, I stood there, my cheeks not even red with blushing, not even feeling embarrassed at all because-well, I have no idea why. Maybe someone slipped something into my drink or something.

What the fuck is happening to me.

And then Fang smiled, too, just a bit, and just enough to make the world stop and stare.

"Well, Max, maybe, just maybe, you're staring because I'm so damn sexy that it's impossible not to?"

Maybe? Definitely.

Oh, wait, Fang's walking closer to me. He reached out slowly, his eyes deep and dark enough to consume all of the light of one of his smiles, and trailed a finger from the bridge of my nose down to my lips, then down my neck, and up again, pulling down my bottom lip.

I couldn't breathe. I forgot how to. So this is how it ends. Only a few more seconds now and I'll be gone from this earth with nothing to show...

"But, Max," Fang whispered, "that's okay. Because I think you're damn sexy, too. So we're even. Well, except, you have your shirt on..."

His other hand was at the bottom of my shirt, and when his forefinger scorched the flesh of my stomach, _that's_ when the old Max decided to make her appearance.

"What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing!"

In a second I was many feet away from him, lips still tingling from where his finger was lingering, and Fang looked confused, one eyebrow raised, eyes full of...?

"Max, what the hell? You just came in here and basically told me that your feelings have changed into more than just friends-"

"I didn't say that!" I protested, stepping further away from him toward his door. "I said maybe that's what it felt like!"

"Oh, my god, Max, I swear. You are so freaking bipolar!"

"And you're so freaking-!"

I didn't have anything to say. I, Maximum Ride, did not know what to say. That has been happening a lot lately, with Fang. Fang. Fang. Fang.

"Sexy and smart and great and muscular and flat out amazing?" he tried, reading my mind.

Fang's shirt was still off. I couldn't really breathe all that well.

"Annoying!" I screamed, and then fled his room like, well, a bipolar person.

Fang had never touched me like that. Gently, softly...but he never touched me like he wanted to take my clothes off before, either. Or talked about him. Ugh! What is his freaking problem! He can't just...!

I'm really, really tired. My thoughts aren't really working right.


	7. Chapter 7

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

Awkward does not begin to describe it. There should be a new word, where there's awkward, and then there's what Fang and I are experiencing right now, where you can feel it in the air, making your saliva thick with it, making your stomach flip, making your neck itch.

"Max, may you please pass me the maple syrup?" Fang asked slowly, manners creepy, dark eyes locked with mine from across the table, as we ate breakfast, still suspended from school.

Not breaking from his gaze, I asked, "Fang, may you please get the maple syrup yourself?"

He gave me a crooked smile, eyes still dark and luring. "I would like it better if you were to hand the maple syrup to me."

I stared at him. "Well I don't think I want to give you the maple syrup, Fang."

"And why is that, Maximum?"

And I replied, "Because you just called me Maximum, Nicholas."

"Okay," my mom said finally, setting her fork down on the table with a clink, "what the heck is going on here?"

She shot me a look and handed the maple syrup to Fang, and he said, "Thank you, Valencia, I appreciate it."

My mom looked at me expectantly.

"I'm going out tonight," I informed her, changing the subject. "There's this thing in the park where they show a movie on the big screen and I'm going to watch it."

"By yourself? There can be creepers there, you can't go by yourself," she said, giving me a "duh" look.

"I'll go with her." I stared at Fang in disbelief. "I can protect her from any 'creepers'."

I clenched my metal fork, resisting the urge to chuck it at him.

"Okay, that would be really great, Fang, thank you for offering. You don't have any plans with Lissa?"

My insides burned and my heart clenched at the mention of her name.

"She's not feeling well; her nose hurts. This is really great-to hang out with Max."

But it got worse.

"Like a date," he said, and I stabbed my fork into the wooden table instead of Fang's poor heart, stood, and walked to my room, slamming the door with a scream.

Yeah. We weren't in love anymore. Thank god.

"Heard you and Fang are going on a daaaa-te..." Ella sang, slipping inside of my room with a smirk on her pretty face, after school ended.

I stared at her. "We are not."

She smiled now, plopping down onto the floor. "Whatever you saaa-ay!"

I chucked my pillow at her but her smile remained.

"So how's Iggy?"

And the smile is gone. Congrats, Max.

"Um-" she stammered, cheeks pink, biting her bottom lip. "Wha-what do you mean?"

"I don't know, just, like, how do his lips taste? Or how does it feel when he touches you?"

"Max..." Her cheeks burned.

I smiled victoriously. "Shut up about Fang."

"Oh, my god!" Nudge squealed, barely five seconds after Ella left, her smile bright and big and...ugh. "I get to choose your outfit!"

She went over to my closet, threw it open, and started to swing clothes around on their hangers, eyes wide.

"Nudge, for what?"

She didn't even look at me, eyes still fascinated with my clothes. "Uh, your date with Fang?"

My cheeks burned. "I am not going on-"

Then there was a rapping of knuckles on my door and Fang's shaggy head popped in, hands braced around the edge of my door frame.

"Max, you ready for our date? The movie starts in fifteen minutes."

I gave him the coldest look I've ever given anyone, where I could feel the evil coursing through my veins, pursed on the tip of my tongue, and he gulped, popping back out.

That's right, boy, run.

Then, with the amount of evil I put into my glare, I said, "Nudge, out."

And the went, too, without another word, as I stood from my bed and went over to the closet. And I did the unthinkable. I got dressed up for our date.

Okay, so "dressed up" isn't the right terminology. But I dressed in something other than jeans and a tee, which I'd started to wear again. I wore tight jeans, really tight black ones with rips that we somehow pay more for than regular ones that aren't ripped, even though they use more material. I wore an off the shoulder black top that was also ripped, with nothing but a lacy red bra underneath that you could sort of see when the material moved, slipped on bloodred bangles, quickly put on some mascara and eyeliner, then threw open the door.

"Good, you're ready. Let's go," Fang said once I hopped down the stairs, slipping my cell phone into the back pocket of my jeans. I shot him a dirty look that he didn't get to see since he was staring at my body, then stormed by him to the door, flung it open, and went out into the night. I could hear him follow me. Once I got to his truck I turned around to see him staring at my ass, and his gaze flicked to my face as he unlocked the doors and we both got in.

We drove in silence, Fang humming almost silently to the music on the radio before I thrust my hand out and slammed it off. When he'd talk to me, I'd ignore him, when he tried to touch me, I'd slap him.

Except for once, when he reached over and took a strand of my hair in his fingers, a strand of hair that had been flowing over my left breast, so he brushed it when he caught the hair, but somehow didn't make me feel violated in any way, and he held it between two fingers, letting headlights from other cars catch the color and make it shine.

Then he whispered, voice still managing to be deep and dark, "You're so perfect, Max."

Fang had absolutely how much that meant to me. When guys complimented me before, it was always disrespectful, and didn't actually make me feel good about myself; it made me feel like I had a good body, and the way that they said it made it clear that they just wanted to get into my pants. Even when Sam called me beautiful.

But this was so delicate, so genuine, so beautiful, and for the first time in my life I actually felt pretty. I felt loved, and cared for, and treasured, even though Fang hadn't said any of that. I drew in a shaky breath, trying not to cry, and bit my bottom lip.

I didn't reply, just brought a finger to my cheek and wiped the single tear that had escaped and looked out of the window as the city passed us by. Everything had folded in, all of the troubles in my life, all of the emotional pain, and I drank it all in, then Fang's perfect words came, and everything disappeared.

Just like that, I fell in love again, deeper than ever before.

By the time we arrived at the park, I was perfectly fine mentally and emotionally, and physically, for that matter. I hopped out of the truck as Fang got out the blanket that we brought, and once he was beside me with it tucked underneath his arm, I started toward the grass. Tons of people were already there, settling in, waiting for the film to start.

"Shouldn't we hold hands? Since we're on a date?" I felt his fingers brush mine and my breathing stopped.

I glared at him in the dark, moving my hand away. "No, we shouldn't, since this isn't a date."

He chuckled and we found a spot, him laying out the blanket, me sitting on it toward the edge, staring at the huge screen in front of us with nothing playing on it. Fang sat next to me, close, our hips touching. I licked my lips, gulped, and stared straight ahead, awkward seeping its way into our scene again.

Couples around us were making out. Like, all of them.

Teenagers were on top of each other underneath blankets, moaning. Middle aged couples were lying down next to each other, lips locked. Old women and men were sitting there curtly, hands to their sides, lips barely touching.

Fang and I sat in the middle of it, hips touching and nothing else.

He cleared his throat.

The awkward was pressing down on us, about to crush the life out of us.

"I'm going to go get a soda," I said slowly, standing to my feet. He looked up at me, getting up.

"I'm coming."

"No, it's fine," I said, but he was already at my side, a foot taller than me, handsome, shining in the moon.

"I need to protect you from any creepers, remember?" He said, smiling adorably.

And so we weaved ourselves between the sex deprived couples below us and made our way toward the concession stands in the back, just as awkward before, except we had something to do: walk. And that's just what we did. We just walked, didn't talk, didn't look at each other.

Until we heard, "Hey, baby."

Fang spun around before the dude finished his sentence, and I turned, too, to see a cute guy with blonde hair and...it's kind of hard to see in the dark...turquoise eyes behind me, eyes focused on mine.

He stuck out his hand toward me. "I'm Dylan," he said, giving me a sloppy smile. "What do you say we ditch this joint? Quickie in my car?"

Fang stepped in front of me, moving me behind him by my hips, getting into a protective stance. "Walk away," he growled.

"She yours? Ah. I had no idea. She's super fine."

Then he takes another step forward, reaching forward to touch me, and I slap him.

So there's Fang, scary as hell, muscular Fang, and this guy is still trying to get me to go home with him? He's so totally wasted.

"C'mon, baby," he continues. "You know you want to."

"I know I want to kick you in the balls," I pipe.

Fang steps closer to Dylan, then grabs the collar of his shirt, brings his face closer to his.

"Stay away from her or I swear to God you'll regret it."

The amount of protectiveness in his voice could kill someone, and it's actually really scary. Dylan winked at me and walked away. Smart boy.

We start walking again, Fang's eyes burning in hatred and disgust, and without thinking I reach out and tangle my fingers in his, giving them a squeeze. He looks down at me, the rage in his eyes replaced with confusion, but I just hold onto his hand tighter, feeling it as his hand relaxes into mine and his fingers close.

Then, just like that, we're holding hands. And everything feels so right.

I lean my head against his shoulder as we continue to walk, and he drops my hand to slip it around my back, so lightly I can barely tell it's there, and somehow it's not awkward.

Then we get to the stand and untangle ourselves, I'm cold without his palm against mine, and after we get popcorn and a soda, we act like it never happened.

And we're awkward all over again.

We settle back on the blanket, just like we were before, but this time our thighs are also touching, pressed against each other, my entire body burning.

Then the movie starts with a sex scene, of course, and I can feel Fang's thigh flex against mine as the man whispers that he loves her into her breasts. I let out a deep breath as the scene finally ends, and the movie jumps into some horror crap, where they are exploring a haunted mansion. It's some twisted live story and at random times they'll make out or have sex, and other times a monster will pop out and you think they'll die.

I jumped when a zombie like thing came and grabbed the woman by her waist and dragged her back into a dark room.

And then one of Fang's fingers was at my hip that was the opposite of him, and he dragged it up my stomach, over the slope of my breast, touching the red lace at the top of my bra, up my collar bone, and his lips were at my ear.

"I'll never let anything hurt you, Maximum," he whispers, his tongue brushing my skin when he says 'let'.

I can't believe I'm letting him call me Maximum. Off of anyone else's lips the name comes off awkward, gross, but off of his it's silky, smooth, beautiful, and perfect.

I stare at the screen as he kisses my ear. I can hear the smack, and then his lips float down, pressing to the hollow behind my ear, and down the length of my neck. Then his finger drags across my collarbone and he slips my blood red bra strap off of my shoulder as his lips meet my skin there, he kisses me.

I'm staring straight ahead, cheeks red in the darkness, as his lips caress the skin of my shoulder, and I'm breathing in through my nose as he fixes my bra strap and his fingers whisper against my skin as they trail the length of my arm and finally leave.

The zombie is tearing the woman apart, the scenes keep switching the the man, who's searching desperately for her, and Aerosmith's "Don't Wanna Miss A Thing" is playing in the background. I have no idea how that song is appropriate in a time like so.

The man rescues the woman, who's bleeding, crying, and kills the zombie.

This movie is so corny.

He bends down and whispers, "One last dance?" because he knows she's gonna die. She smiles and nods, he takes her into his arms and dances with her, except, well, he's basically dragging her around because she's too weak to do shit.

Then, of course, all the couples around us stand and start to dance, like people dripping with blood dancing to a completely irrelevant song is the most romantic thing you'd ever see. Fang smiles at me, I bite my lip, he stands. I looked up at him as he reached down his hand to me. I ignore it. He sighs.

"C'mon, Max," he begs.

I ignore him. But then he reaches down and slides his arms around me, forcing me to stand. I shoot him a look and he smiles, the world disappears, he put his arms around my waist. I blush red, his fingers brushing the bare skin of my back that the loose fabric exposes.

"Max, dance with me," he says, pulling me close, so close that I can rest my head against his chest and feel his heartbeat increase as I slip my hands around his neck.

"I can't dance," I murmur into his chest, inhaling his unique scent, so clean and delicious.

"Good. That makes two of us."

I laugh, just because I don't know what else to do, and stroke the back of his neck with careful fingers, him shivering underneath my touch and he draws me even closer to his body so that we're aligned, but he's taller than me, hips brushing my stomach.

"This does not count as dancing," I mutter, refering to how we are simply clinging onto each other, barely swaying.

I like the clinging part, feeling all of his muscles pressed against me through his thin clothes, the warmth of his body transferring to mine.

"It doesn't matter," he says. "It's not about how good you are. It's about two people, and how they're together. Stop being complicated."

Together.

"I'm not perfect, Fang," I whisper.

"What?"

"You said I was perfect, earlier, in the car. But I'm not."

He didn't say anything for awhile as his hands continued to grab my hips, stroke my bare skin.

Then, slowly, silently, he said, "You're perfect to me."

That's when I leaned up and kissed his throat, pressed my mouth to where I can hear his breathing hitch, lips parted. I stayed there for a long while while his hands tightened on me before I just buried my face into the crook of his neck.

The song ends, the woman falls limp in the man's arms, and Fang let's me go so he can sit back down for the rest of the movie. I look down at him and then spread his knees so that I can sit between his legs, them on each sides of me. He was surprised, and so was I, but it didn't matter, because I liked it like this. I liked taking a freaking cHaNcE for once.

And his arms snaked around my waist, pulling my back against him, hands on the flesh of my stomach. I placed my hands on top of his, twining our fingers, as his chin hooked over my shoulder and he nuzzled my neck.

This was Fang. And we were cuddling.

Then Fang began to whisper the lines that the man on screen was saying into my ear.

I don't even know what he was saying, but it was slow and sexy and romantic. Cue wetness between my legs.

"And love, though so strong, becomes weak at a certain point, and that's when you have to hold on, and never let go," Fang whispers into my ear as his fingers move underneath my top, tracing my ribs.

The movie ends, people clap, Fang and I stay where we are and make no move to leave.

I love how safe I am in his arms.

I love his mouth to my ear, on my neck, whispering words. I love his fingers on my bare stomach. I love his silky hair, how it brushes my skin. I love his dark eyes, how they meet mine fearlessly.

I love him.

Fang kissed my cheek before standing, holding onto my hands and taking me with him, then he drops them and begins to fold the blanket we were sitting on.

I love him.

I stood there looking at him, then grabbed the empty popcorn and soda trash and tossed them into the trash. He looks at me and smiles, and I smile back, then he comes next to me and we walk next to each other and we make our way back to the truck, not touching, just smiling.

And before I know it we're back home, standing awkwardly in front of my door, hands to our sides, fiddling with the ends of our shirts like we just met, not like we've been best friend since the age of two.

"I had fun," I say finally.

"I'm glad," he replies.

AWKWARDNESS.

"Okay, well I'm gonna get to bed. It's late."

He nods, licking his lips during the motion, and I open the door to my room. He kisses my forehead quickly and I slip inside, shut the door, and slide down the door so that I'm sitting with my knees to my chest. I'm so extreme right now, that I'm making a two second decision to either smile wider than I ever had, or cry until I'm drowning in tears. There's no in between.

And I smile.

At three in the morning, when it's impossible to sleep, I ran to Fang's room, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

* * *

**So by now you all now that this story belongs to Keepdreaming93 and not me, but I just want to let you know that I hate the ending to this story. I'm only putting up this story because KD93 asked me to, but I absolutely hate the ending. It's kind of bittersweet - but not really - so I'll let you guys all decide if you like it or not. I'll try to put the chapters up faster, I just don't want to put them all at once so that you guys all have time to read it so I'll put up a chapter everyday. **


	8. Chapter 8

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

"Max?" Fang croaked groggily as he opened the door and looked at me, wiping his eyes.

"Hi, sorry, did I wake you up?"

Duh, Max, it's 3a.m., smarty pants.

"Uh, no, actually, I was just thinking about you," he said with a sweet little smile. His eyes quickly swept down my body.

That's when I realized I was just wearing tiny cotton shorts, and a cut off tee shirt that showed my entire stomach, barely covering my chest.

That's also when I realized what Fang was wearing.

Boxers. That's it.

Black boxers-how fitting-that were low on waist hips, showing me the "V" that his strong, muscular hips made. And _underneath_ that? I almost passed out.

He held the door open wider and I gave him a shy smile before stepping inside. He shut the door quietly behind me and flipped on the small light beside his bed. I sat down on the edge of the bed and checked out his butt as he bent down, opened a drawer, and grabbed flannel pajama pants. He turned sideways and slipped them on.

In my head I was chanting _please_ _don't put a shirt on, please don't put a shirt on._

He might have heard it, because he left it off, so I could ogle at his bare chest and abs. He has the greatest body I've ever seen. Not the gross buff, where he belongs on national television to lift trucks, but perfection, tanned skin, perfect six pack, long, strong limbs.

"So what's up, Max?" he said, sitting down next to me on the bed, gently moving his hair from his dark, beautiful eyes.

I had no idea why I came in here.

"I, uh, couldn't sleep. It's really hot."

He tries with all his might to keep his eyes on mine but they flicker down to my chest and then up again involuntarily, and then he gulps. It really is hot, but that's not why I couldn't sleep. Like, the air conditioning broke or something. I'm sure I'm sweating, and so is Fang. I look down briefly to see that a bead of sweat is running between my breasts. He starts to mess with a loose string on his comforter, looking down.

"Yeah."

My heart jumps when I ask, "So you were thinking about me?"

He stops fiddling with the string and his eyes meet mine in a moment so fierce I'm tempted to run away right then, and he smiles.

"Yeah."

Oh, my god.

"And what were you thinking about?" I ask boldly. He looks deep in thought and he has to shift his position, pressing his legs together.

"Can I play you something?" he asks finally, getting up and going to his black guitar he got for Christmas not too long ago. Oh, wow, could he get any more perfect? Nope.

"I wrote it for you," he says sheepishly. It's adorable.

"You were thinking about a song when thinking about me?" I ask.

He faintly mumbles, "If only I were that innocent."

I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to hear that. But now it's on my mind, Fang, in bed, thinking dirty thoughts about me. Touching himself while thinking of me.

I groaned almost silently.

And I am officially a pervert. In a week I've turned into a completely new person. The old Max would never in a million years thought that.

It could have been nothing like that. He could have been thinking about murdering me with a chainsaw. That's not innocent, either.

"Hm. I haven't got the words down, so I'm just going to play. Remember that it's not complete when listening, okay?"

I nod, excited, and lean forward to listen. He bends his head and sets careful fingers on the strings while his other fingers are holding a pick, poised to strum.

I'm breathless when he starts to play his music.

I'm not a music person. I have no talent in that department. I can't sing, I can't play, but I have good taste, may I say so myself. And this, this was perfect. Beautiful, amazing.

It's simple at first, slow and sure, and then it becomes more soft and complicated, flowing into a beautiful chorus, and I can hear him singing underneath his breath.

I can't understand the words, but if they're anything like his playing, I'm sure they're perfect.

And it gets faster, but still pretty, then it slows down, like a waterfall was just pushed into slow motion, and I expect it to stop, but instead it becomes beautifully complicated again, and all I can do is stare. Stare at his dark eyes, halfway closed, staring down at his hands intently. His fingers, how they glide gracefully along the strings, creating a sound unlike I'd ever for.

And he made this song for _me_.

Even without words, the sound whispers, "I love you."

The song comes to a slow ending and Fang sets the guitar to the side, propping it against the wall beside him and he was just sitting there, legs out in front of him, hands on the floor beside him, his hair looking all perfect, swooshed to the side, right above his dark eyes that are staring at _me_, asking me how I felt.

"That was beautiful," I say, never more scared in my life, as I stand up and start to walk over to him.

He whispers, "You're beautiful," so low I'm not even sure that he said it.

I sat down on the side of him and reached over, stroked his cheek with gentle fingers. He watched me, waiting, as my other hand desperately joined the other and I took his face into my hands, and then brought his lips down to meet mine.

It took him about two seconds to react, putting his hands on my bare sides and pulling me closer to him so that I'm on my knees beside him, my hands tangled in his hair, silk running through my fingers, his tightening on me, and he pulls me into his lap.

I part my lips and he parts his, pulling my body so that I'm against him, breasts on his chest, hips on his, and the kiss is deepened, the kiss is hot, the kiss is romantic.

And he is such a good kisser.

Think of the greatest kisser you've ever known, multiply that my forty thousand billion.

Fang's hands press to my lower back, and then he bends me over so my back is to the floor and he's over me, knees on either side of my body. He does this without breaking our lips. This is one talented man.

Our tongues, meanwhile, have fallen in love and moved to Paris.

When he pulls away I moan, pulling him back to me, but, I hate to say it, he's stronger than me. I open my eyes and look at him through my lashes to see that he's smiling. He strokes my cheek with the pad of his thumb and watches me, then whispers, "So beautiful."

"So _sexy_," I purr, scratching my nails down his bare chest. He groaned and looked deeply into my eyes.

"Mmmmhhh, Maximum," he draws it out, making it sound delicious, "if I knew I just had to play a song to steal your heart I would've done it a long time ago," he says, leaving me breathless as he trails a finger over my cheek, down my neck, and in between my breasts to my stomach, then up again.

"You see, Fang," I said, grabbing him by his hair and yanking his lips so they're floating an inch from mine, "You had my heart all along."

And even though I was about to die from corniness disease, even though this was completely unlike me, I loved it. I loved him. I brought his lips down to mine for a long, gentle kiss that told him that he's the best thing that's ever happened to me, and he kisses me back. After what felt like hours of that, he let go of my sides, leaving my bare skin tingling, and places a kiss on the corner of my mouth before getting up.

He looked down at me as I pouted; them smiled and reached his hand down for me. I slipped mine through his, tempted to drag him back down and attack him again, but I knew we couldn't be found sleeping in the same room, so I stood, too.

"Walk me to my room?" I whispered, biting my bottom lip.

He nods and twines his fingers through mine tightly, then we walk toward his door. We walk as slowly as possible down the hall to my room, his hand moving to my waist and scorching my skin there, but we still made it. I leaned back against my door and dropped his hand, looking at him with the sexiest look I could manage, which probably wasn't sexy at all, but it worked.

He braced one hand on the side of my head, against the door, and the other is on my hip, then he bends his head to kiss me. I devour him, instantly needing more, grabbing his hair and bringing him closer until I can feel the length of his body against mine, grinding his hips into mine.

Oh, and I can feel his little friend, too.

He kisses a trail to my ear and then sucks my earlobe into his mouth, making me moan. Then he whispers, "Goodnight, love," and before I can tell him goodnight, too, he's gone and into his room, the door clicking behind him, leaving me breathless.


	9. Chapter 9

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

When I woke up everything was exactly the same except for the slight lightening in my mood and the pinch of my heart, and I thought maybe everything last night was a dream.

Until my mattress started to shake and Fang was above me, smiling like a lunatic, arms braced on either side of my head.

"Good morning, beautiful," he said and my heart pinched again, then he leaned down and kissed my cheek.

"Heyyyy..." I said, voice still lazy from sleep. Yeah, I realize how lame it sounded.

"We're going out tonight," he said as his fingers ran through my messy hair. "On a date."

I grabbed the end of his tee shirt until he fell on top of me and said, "I think you have to ask me. And then if I say yes, it's a date."

He propped himself up on his elbows so his weight wasn't on me, and his mouth twisted to the side in thought. "Okay, Maximum, would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?"

Then I said, "I'll think about it," and slipped out of bed, heading toward the bathroom. But score I could reach my door Fang tackled me to the floor by my waist and was hovering over me.

"I'll let you go when you say yes."

Then he started to tickle me. It was one of the most interesting, most unexpected things that I would ever think to happen.

Fang was _tickling_ me.

"Fine...fine...I'll...go to...dinner...with you!" I managed between gasps and giggles, sounds I never thought would come from my throat.

He smiled in satisfaction before kissing the side of my neck, my collarbone, then my navel, and finally gave me a quick kiss on the lips before getting up and leaving me in the middle of the floor, grinning like an idiot.

I was going on a date.

"I have something that I need to tell everybody!"

Everybody's heads turned to Ella quickly and she looked at Iggy.

"Okay, well, don't freak out, but..."

"Ella and I are...together."

Gasp.

Since I already knew all I really cared about was how Fang's hand was on my upper thigh, making heat burn through my entire body.

Then Fang's hand stopped massaging me and he looked in my eyes, asking, "Should we tell them, too?" silently.

I shook my head in a tiny motion, so glad that our silent communication still worked when we were a couple. He nodded and his hand continued, feeling so good I could have fallen asleep right there if it weren't for Nudge running her mouth about Iggy and Ella.

"I swear, that's so friggen' cute. The only thing cuter would be Fang and Max-" I blush red here, Fang squeezes my thigh. "-but seriously, it's adorable. I could totally tell that you guys were into each other. You flirt constantly. So how did you even get together? Have you-"

Fang put his hand over her mouth.

"Anyway," Ella said, cheeks pink, "We just wanted to tell everyone."

My mother stared at her for a long time before she finally smiled.

"Well that's...great!"

And we talked no more of it.

I decided to get ready for my date by myself, without Nudge or Ella, just me. I didn't want to be someone that I'm not because our relationship wouldn't work with me faking it.

But that didn't mean I would look like crap. That's just not acceptable.

Fang had told me that he was taking me out to a little Italian place (that I loved) and it was kind of fancy, so I wore a little emerald green dress (gag) and curled my hair so it looked decent (-ish). And I put on a _tiny_ bit of makeup on.

But that's pretty much it.

I hope Fang's okay with that.

**FANG'S POV:**

I, Nicholas Martinez, am going on a date with Maximum Ride, the girl of many guys' dreams.

So, yeah, I'm a little nervous.

"Dude, really, chill," Iggy said, popping into my room like he could actually tell I was nervous even though he's _blind_. "It's Max, and she'll love you no matter what you smell like. Now stop being such a girl or you'll be late."

Yeah, Iggy kind of guessed it. This morning he just came in and was like, "You and Max, eh? Finally."

So I didn't really deny it, I just shrugged, and now he's all up in my business.

But this is what I was hung up on: She'll love you no matter what...

That was scary as hell.

It's not that I don't love her, too, because I do. But that's something that I've always kept inside of myself, and Max, if she really does love me, has too. And saying it aloud was intimidating and questionable.

Despite everything, I sighed and walked out of the room, brushing by Iggy, and went down to Max's door, then knocked.

And saw something I never, ever thought I'd see.

I expected Max to look pretty. She's always pretty, and she seemed to be excited for our date. But I could never have expected her to look that pretty. That beautiful. That_perfect_. And wearing a dress.

I stared. And stared. And stared.

"Fang? Do I look...okay? I didn't want Nudge or Ella to help me...but I'm not all that...fashion-"

I slid my arms around her waist and silenced her with my lips. Her hands went to my hips and I couldn't believe that I had such a perfect human being within the circle of my arms, lips on hers, breathing the same air as.

"You look incredible."

I'd like to say that our date went pleasant, talking and laughing and brushing knees and then ended with me kissing her on her porch until all the stars fell from the sky and lingered in the night sky around us and then we went home and dreamed of unicorns and rainbows.

But that's not really what happened.

Most of the time Max was talking and laughing and being all perfect, eating and drinking, telling me things I want to hear, and I was just staring at her.

It was kind of impossible not to.

While she laughed I heard the sound and wondered how I could possibly make a song on my guitar that could display anything close to how beautiful it was.

While she smiled I wondered if Van Gogh came back to life he could paint something that maybe looked anything like how cute it was.

While she reached over across the table and took my hand in her own, I wondered if the greatest scientist to ever exist could create the same perfect jolt of energy that ran through every inch of my body when our skin made contact.

While she got a phone call from her teacher and had to leave the restaurant for five minutes, standing and giving me a look at the length of her gorgeous body, I wondered if any person in the entire universe could be that sexy.

"Sorry. He keeps getting on my ass about me going on a trip to Europe this summer," Max said after she came back inside, sliding into her seat.

"Europe?" I asked, trying not to sound freaked out. "For how long?"

She waved her hand in front of her face. "I'm so not going." I cocked an eyebrow.

Then she said, quietly, "I couldn't be away from you that long," like she was admitting something that she didn't want to, and I felt my face spill into a wide smile.

I leaned forward a bit, enough to make her lips tremble and eyes find my mouth, and whispered, "I'd die without you."

She didn't smile or show any sign of a smile, just stared into my eyes. I didn't break the moment, just prolonged it, and then I put my finger on her lip with a smirk, then dragged it down her neck, to her collarbone, and swirled it there.

"Stop torturing me," she whispered and if we weren't in a restaurant I would have devoured her.

"Dessert?"

I leaned back and Max and mine's head whipped around to the kind of hot waitress that was smiling now, at me.

"Do you want dessert, Max?" I asked her, moving my eyes from the blonde.

"Uh, nah, I'm good." She was glaring at her.

"Max? Isn't that like...a dude's name?"

If she wasn't a girl I would've probably punched her right there.

Max looked at her and rose an eyebrow. "Please god just go away," she said, too tired to come up with anything.

She gave me a smile and walked away after leaving the check on the table, hand casually brushing my shoulder blades.

Max looked at me.

"I'll pay for half, Fang," she said finally, taking the black book from my hands.

"Uh, no. This is a date, me taking out my girlfriend, and how it works is I drive and pay for the meal, okay?"

"Girlfriend?"

Crap. God, wasn't that what we were? Or maybe we weren't, since it barely happened last night. What...?

"Um."

Then she smiled. "So I get to call you my boyfriend, right?"

I smiled back. "If you want to."

She nodded and handed the check back to me. "I want to."  
**  
MAX POV:**

Time sucks. Because I know if I had a choice, if I were Jesus, I would've made it so I could have spent ten more hours with Fang on our date, or even the rest of my life would be cool. But time does suck, and I'm not Jesus, so the night winded down and around ten o clock we had to drive home, back to where it wasn't just us two.

Which sucks almost as much as time does.

The house was silent when we arrived so he walked me to my room and I let him come inside.

"Thank you, Fang," I said, sitting down on the edge of my bed and kicking off my heels. "I had an amazing night."

He played with a bobblehead that I had like he was two. He shrugged. "Thank you for letting me take you, Maximum."

I stared at him as I took off my bracelets and set them on my nightstand, and when he didn't say anything I got up and went over to him. I put my hand on his shoulder and kissed the side of his neck.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm good, Max."

I turned him around to face me and ran my fingers down his cheek. "Fang..."

He smiled and stopped my fingers, holding them. "Seriously, I'm fine."

I stared at him, rocking back on my heels, swinging our hands back and forth. I leaned up to kiss him, but then at the last second, as he leaned down, too, slipping his hand around my hips, I backed up.

"Okay, then, goodnight," I said, pushing his back so he was forced to walk, until he was at my doorway. He braced his hands on my doorframe, and since he was stronger than me, I couldn't push him out. "Get out, Fang, I have to get dressed!"

He laughed. "Even more reason to stay!"

Mmmmmmm. Perv.

I pushed harder. "Please?" I tried.

He turned around and in the process let go of the doorframe, so I pushed him out into the hallway.

"Goodnight kiss?" he asked with probably the cutest face ever.

I really wanted to know what was wrong and I hated that he wasn't telling me. It's a trust thing. But even so, if the sexiest guy on the planet is looking at you with puppy dog eyes, asking you to _kiss_ him, what would you do?

Duh.

"God, fine," I said, but in my mind I was screaming "please! please! please! Yes! Yes! Yes!"

But I played it cool, because that's what I'm all about.

I put my hands on his chest and leaned up on my toes, then brushed my lips against his, pulling back just as quickly.

"Max." He sighed.

"I'm just thinking," I said, touching his chest, then running my fingers over his biceps. "We're in the hallway. Everybody could see."

"And?"

I bit the inside of my lip and squeezed his arms, moving them so they were around my waist, then put my hands on his shoulders. "I don't know, just maybe we should be more careful?"

He looked at me. "Nobody is even awake."

"Fine. But in the future, we really need to be more careful about people seeing us. We can't just randomly make out."

He smirked. "So we should be on a schedule?"

"Shut up, Fang. You know what I mean." His hands tightened around my waist so I was pressed against his body.

"Max, just kiss me, okay?"

I smiled and did.

I can't really explain all that well what kissing Fang is like. He's, like, super talented, though. I feel really amateur when kissing him, like it shouldn't be mE kissing him, but someone who went to eight years of college, studying kissing.

Because he's really good.

Suuuupppppeeerrrr good.

"Goodnight, Max," he whispered after I pulled away for oxygen, but then he pulled me in again, moving his mouth with mine, and that's, like, the millionth time I died and went to heaven.

In one _day_.

"Goodnight," I said, kissing his neck and then slipping away, going to turn into my room, but before I could he grabbed my wrist and spun me around.

"I wasn't lying when I said I was fine, Max," he said, moving closer but dropping my hand. "I am. I was just thinking. But it's nothing bad. Okay?"

I felt small, and I grabbed his hand, squeezing it.

"Thinking...about me?"

He smiled in the darkness. "Max, most of the time I'm thinking about you."

I brushed some hair from his eyes and kissed his cheek, then plopped back down.

"Are you doubting?" I asked in a small voice, fearing the answer.

"No, no, no, no, no. Not at all. Max, why would I be doubting you? I luh-" he stopped.

Wait, what?

"Okay. Thanks for telling me."

He nodded, leaning down and kissing my shoulder, then my neck. "Max, I've never seen anyone so beautiful as you tonight."

I froze, backing up. "Bullshit."

He rose an eyebrow. "Are you kidding?" he asked.

I shook my head. "There are thousands of people prettier than me. Millions."

He stared at me. "Like...give me one example."

"Um, Lissa?"

His mouth dropped open. "Maximum, you are...god. You're so much more attractive than her. I'm not just saying this shit because I'm your boyfriend. Even if I was still just your best friend, I'm telling you. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Impossible.

"Thanks," I said shyly.

"Oh, my god, babe. You don't believe me. Wow-"

I sighed. "I just don't see why I'm that pretty. I'm so average. In so many ways."

He looked at me. "You have big, dark brown eyes, but they're flecked with gold. And really long eyelashes. Your hair is so pretty, it's this unique color, kind of blondish but it's brown, and it's long and soft. You have really perfect lips, so I love kissing you, all the time. They're full and a nice shape. And I can't really explain your body. You're so sexy. Really nice legs and...other stuff."

I stared at him with my mouth open. "You're gorgeous," I blurted, then flushed red.

"And..." Fang said, moving closer to me and putting his hand on my cheek. "You're even more beautiful when you blush."

He kissed me again, then left the room, calling a "Goodnight, Maximum," over his shoulder and I watched after him in awe.

Fang is my boyfriend, and he thinks I'm beautiful.


	10. Chapter 10

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**FANG POV:**

Our suspension was lifted a week after that night, which meant we had to go back to school. It sucks. I was really enjoying being at home, alone, with the sexiest girl on the planet. Really enjoying it.

I was starting to think that beating up Sam was the greatest decision of my entire eighteen years of life.

"Ugh. And we're back at the hell hole," Max groaned, stepping out of my truck as soon as I parked.

I laughed, swinging my backpack over my shoulder and locking my car door. Max wasn't in her old jeans and a tee shirt, but wasn't in her skirt and cleavage outfit, either. She was in between. And still unbelievably hot.

I fell into step beside her and reached out, taking her hand in mine and twining our fingers. She looked down at our hands and then up at me in bewilderment, like she was surprised we didn't explode when we made contact.

"What? I can't hold your hand?"

She smiled and pulled me closer, so our hips were brushing with every step, and when I looked up from her shining eyes I saw that the. Entire. School. Was. Staring.

Max gulped. They were looking at us like at any moment they would all take out their shotguns and blow us to bits. But they didn't. They just stared. And kept doing it.

Max sighed and pressed her face into my bicep, biting down, but not enough to hurt. "Why is everybody staring?" she screamed into my muscle.

"Because they're dumb," I said as my genius explanation.

She pulled away and swung our hands back and forth, looking at me with a beautiful smile that I always wanted to see but didn't get to, and we both slightly quickened our pace. There were a million things I loved about Max but in the top five lay that we're so in sync. All the time.

Soon we were at the locker bay, the only two in it. We went to the corner, where my locker was, since she left her stuff in her classrooms, like we were hiding from the paparazzi. Yeah, dumbfounded teenage high school paparazzi.

She stopped, back to the locker, and took both of my hands in her own, fingers massaging my skin. I intertwined my fingers with hers, pressing out palms against each other.

I loved her skin.

"So..." she said, leaning against the locker and looking at me. "Maybe you should be careful today, yeah? Sam's probably really pissed."

I rose an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. "So you think that _Samuel_ can beat me up."

She showed me a crooked smile.

"Well you should probably watch out for Lissa," I said, knowing this would piss her off.

Her jaw dropped open. "Oh, yeah. Because she's totally gonna kick my ass in forty inch heels."

"I don't know, babe, you're softening up," I said.

Her eyes widened and she took a step closer to me. "I am _not_. I can still beat you up."

I laughed and put my hands on her shoulders, massaging her skin. "Okay. Try."

She did. And it was really, really cute. Because she was nothing compared to me. But after awhile she brought her leg up and freaking kneed me in the balls, and that wasn't cute. That was evil.

I moved her back up against the lockers and held her there. "Ow, Max! We might want to have babies someday! Ever thought about that?"

She smirked. "Aw. You want me to kiss it better?"

"Yes, please," I said, smiling, not in very much pain anymore.

"Pervert," she said. I braced my hands on either side of her head, then bent my head. She put her hands around my neck and leaned up and then kissed me. I pressed her back further into the lockers and licked her bottom lip.

She whimpered almost silently, and it was quite possibly the sexiest sound I have ever heard.

"We should get to class," she groaned and kissed my cheek before slipping out under me and walking quickly to her class, with an extra sway in her hips, just for me. I turned to my locker with a smile. She was mine.

**MAX POV:**

I expected Lissa to be pissed. Even though I'm optimistic (ha-ha) I knew that she was going to be mad. I broke her nose.

But this was weird.

"So you and Fang, huh?"

See what I mean?

I turned to her and gave her a smile, then i did something weird. Something that I _never_ do. EVER.

I apologized.

"Lissa," I said, "I'm going to apologize." Her eyes opened wide, fake lashes almost brushing her forehead.

"You see, the reason that I beat the crap out of you is because I thought that you were cheating on Nick-"

"But-"

"I know," I said, holding my hand up. "You weren't even going out. But I thought that you were, and Nick is my _best friend_. We stand up for each other. So that's why I did it. Granted, I was still a bitch for doing it and so...I'm sorry."

She stared in awe, then her mouth closed (finally!) and she started to speak.

"I don't care if you think you have Nick wrapped around your little finger because he'll never _really_ be yours. I swear on my life that he told me that he loves me. He doesn't love_you_. He loves _me_."

And her voice was more than pissed. I can't really explain it.

Then her words hit me. Hard. Very, very hard.

"What?" I choked out, voice not having my usual strong, tough quality.

But the girl just smiled and nodded, then stepped into class. And left me there, as I tried to figure out what she meant and at the same time the present time folded in on me.

Fang has never said "I love you" to me.

**FANG POV:**

Max was angry with me on an entirely new level than I've ever seen her, and I've known her practically since birth. Usually when she's mad at me she'll hit me or scream at me or prank me or threaten me.

Right now, she's sitting in the passenger seat of my car, furthest away from me as she can be, staring out the window in silence.

"Hey, baby, what's wrong?" I asked at a stoplight, brushing my fingers down her arm. She flinched away from my touch.

"Nothing," she grumbled.

"Something," I said back.

She looked at me, running her hand through her hair and then over her face with a groan. "I'm just tired, okay? And I have to study for the science exam."

I let it go, and when we got inside our house, I went into her room. She stared at me as I dropped my backpack to the floor.

"I can study with you. We share science, remember?"

She looked at me like I should know what was on her mind.

"Um, well I kind of want to just study by myself. I don't want to be distracted."

I took a step toward her and she locked her eyes with mine, pressing her lips together.

"You're telling me to go away because you're pissed at me, yet you won't tell me why, so what the fuck am I supposed to do, Max?"

Her eyes searched my face and then they met my eyes and she said, "I'm just rethinking things." She looked at the floor and touched the edge of my tee shirt where it met my arm, making a tingle run through me entire body. "Like, I don't really know if...I mean...us...gonna work..."

My breathing stopped.

"Max," I said softly. "Don't you know how I feel about you?"

She suddenly screamed, "I know how you feel about Lissa!"

I was confused in every possible way.

"Wait, what?"

Then the door came open. Max and mine's heads whipped to the door where Ella was watching us with wide eyes. She was smiling, but when she saw us it dropped from her pretty face and right onto the floor. Then kind of ran for its life.

"Um, mom has to talk to us about something. Now."

And she was gone, terrified. I looked back at Max, who had tears in her eyes, and I licked my lips.

"We are so talking about this later," I told her and she gave me an unreadable look before storming out of her room. I followed her out. Felt about Lissa?

**MAX POV:**

Nothing better than a serious talk from mommy to heal post-fight sickness, right?

I seriously think that in another life I went to college for eight years and got my doctorate degree in sarcasm. Because dang, I'm good.

I took the seat next to Iggy, wiping my tiny little tears from my eyes and staring at my mom, avoiding everybody's concerned eyes. A minute later Fang came in and sat opposite of me, not even looking at me.

Douche bag.

Douche bag that loves Lissa.

"Okay, everybody, I have some news," my mom began, obviously excited, clapping her hands together.

"No shit," Iggy grumbled under his breath.

"I know this is going to be pretty new to everybody, but..." Spit it out, Jesus. "I have a boyfriend."

I choked on my spit, which meant I was surprised. And I don't gEt surprised hardly ever. I know everything. Well, except for today, with the whole Lissa thing, but how was I supposed to know that! Fang is mY boyfriend. I had the right to be surprised.

I need to stop thinking about that.

"Who? Oh, my god, is he cute? Where does he live? Does he make good money? Because he needs to. You make a lot, but if the man makes less than the woman, he's probably lazy or has a bad past and that is just _not_ acceptable-"

I'm thinking superglue. Or duct tape. Or maybe surgery.

"His name is Jeb Batchelder," my mom said, "and he does make good money. He's a scientist, actually, a very smart man. And he's coming over tonight. For dinner. So I expect you all to be on your beat behavior."

She shot a sharp look at Gazzy.

"He's coming at seven o clock."

Seven o clock was only three hours later. Three hours of me in my room, Fang in his, Ella and Iggy making out like it's the last night of their lives, the rest of the kids running around being dumb, and my mom slaving over the stove, making some good smelling Italian crap.

And at seven o clock _exactly_ Jeb Batchelder arrived. It was kind of creepy. The clock read 6:59 and right when it switched to 7:00 the doorbell rang.

I dressed up nice, like the other kids, in a dress, and sat at the table with my hands crossed in my lap like a good girl. Fang came down the stairs, not really dressed up but still hot as hell, in black jeans and an oh so sexy V-neck, and slid into the seat next to me. My heart called to him.

Record scratch. Wait a sec. I'm pissed at him. Almost forgot.

But when he took my hand from my lap, fingers brushing the bare skin of my inner thigh, and held it in his own lap, all my anger practically melted away, and turned into lust, love, want, need.

Jeb wasn't ugly, wasn't cocky, wasn't a retard, wasn't corny, and wasn't a kiss up. Which is a really good thing, because I wouldn't have been able to be a good girl if it weren't so.

"And you must be Max," he said, reaching over the table to shake my hand, giving me a small smile. "I'm Jeb."

I nodded and shook back, and watched as he greeted everyone else at the table, then sat down next to my mom, who smiled up at him with a look I've never seen on her face. I couldn't really explain it. She was really happy with this dude.

As I was thinking about this, I was interrupted by the feeling of something kind of tickling and kind of painful in my palm and I looked over to Fang, seeing that he was writing on my hand. When he was done he silently gave me my hand back and it read

you look so pretty

in his handwriting that was him written in ink. Dark and beautiful and scary and sexy and dangerous and guyish.

I gave him a small smile, and he took my hand back, writing something else underneath it. After a little while he set it on my leg and looked up around the table. It said

i hate this. we need to talk after dinner with the nerdy boyfriend.

I looked at him but he was serving himself some noodles, and I took the pen that was resting strategically on his thigh, then wrote

alright. balcony. I'm sorry, i'm just confused.

and smacked his thigh with my palm so he had to look at me. He read it quickly, taking my hand again. He was writing on the side of my hand because we ran out of room on my palm.

YOU'RE confused?

I sighed and handed him the hand back, then took his hand and twined our fingers, holding them on my thigh.

I didn't want to fight with him.

I was pissed, and had a right, but I didn't want to fight. I wished I could forget about everything, forget about how I was mad and hurt and sad. But you can't really forget your boyfriend telling another girl that he loves her, when he hasn't said it to you yet. I love him, and don't want to fight, but you can't erase a hurt that massive.

Everyone around us was engaged in conversation an hour into the dinner, except Fang and I. We sat there and listened as everybody talked, laughed, and ate. We were in our own little bubble of depression and need, watching the rest of the world go on.

I gasped silently as Fang suddenly kissed my temple, an opened mouth kiss that sent shivers down my spine and back up again. His tongue barely touched my skin and I dug my nails into my palms, trying to keep my face not contorted.

He moved his lips to my ear agonizingly slow to whisper, "I miss you. Let's go talk."

I wanted to make fun of him for being pathetic, how I've only been kind of angry with him for about 3 hours, hardly enough time to miss, but I didn't because I knew what he meant. I missed knowing that he was thinking of me. That I could kiss his cheek without explanation. That he liked holding my hand and loved spending time with me. That he was going to come into my room late at night and give me a goodnight kiss, tell me that he misses me. And I couldn't think those things anymore, now that I knew.

So I missed, too.

I said, "Mom, can I leave the table?" at the same time that Fang said, "Valencia, may I please be excused?"

We looked at each other, and normally we would smile and say something stupid, like "Jinx", but instead we turned back to my mom.

"Um, yeah, sure. Take your plates out, please," she said, eying us suspiciously. I nodded and stood with my plate, then said a polite goodbye to Jeb, Fang doing to same. Everyone watched us as I walked up the stairs, Fang behind me, but I didn't care. When we were blocked by the wall, he held my fingers with his, the rest of our hands not touching.

We didn't want to fight, but you can't always get what you want. And fighting was something that was necessary.

He opened the door for me and closed it after we stepped into his room. He flicked on the lights and I got a good look at him, so handsome and so sexy, so...

So suckish. Loves Lissa.

We sat down on his bed, and he spoke immediately. "So how do I feel about Lissa, then, oh wise one?"

I looked at him and suddenly wanted to be far far away. But sitting here wishing for something impossible was useless.

"You love her," I stated, my voice shaking.

He choked on his spit.

"What?" I looked away, gulped back the tears that were threatening to fall, but he took it in his hands and forced me to look at him. "Max, what the hell are you talking about?"

Now I really was crying, and I hated it. I pulled my face from the hands that I wanted all over me. I stood up and took a few steps toward his door.

"I apologized to her for breaking her nose today, and that's what she said. But she's not lying, Fang, I know she's not. It's just...I mean, if you love her then you shouldn't tell me all this stuff, say that I'm more beautiful than her, act like I mean something to you when you know..."

My face was in his hands again. "Maximum, look at me." I locked my teary eyes with his. "I don't love her. I don't even _like_ her-"

I walked back further, shoulder blades brushing his door. "How can you lie to me? How can you act like..."

"Max," he said softly, wiping the tears from my face. I jerked my head away. "She tells me that I told her that, you know, but...I swear on my life that I didn't. Or at least I don't remember saying that. I think maybe I was drunk or something."

I looked in his eyes and then turned around and opened his door. "Stop _lying_ to me, Fang, it's so not fair. In these last few weeks you've become my whole _life _and now...I just...can't...I mean, how can you love _her?_ She barely even knows you! Do you know what love is, Fang? She calls you freaking _Nicholas _or _Nick._ You hate that! I just don't freaking..._get _it..."

He brought his hands to my face and cupped it, thumbs brushing my cheekbones. I tried not to look at him, but it was too much and I met his eyes, so dark and beautiful and haunting. I wanted to run the very tip of my finger along his thick, lush eyelashes. I wanted everything to be right. I wanted to be his.

His lips were inches from mine when he whispered, "I love you, Maximum."

I stopped breathing. It just stopped. My head started to hurt after awhile, and I remembered to inhale and exhale. Tears kept on falling, breath shaking, knees wobbling.

"I love you," I tried to say back, because I do, but I couldn't. It came out as "huah". More of a deep exhalation than words.

The comfort and guilt and love and pain and sorrow that Fang's beautiful eyes held suddenly switched to anger when I didn't say anything. Then like we were best friends arguing anymore, he wasn't caring and loving with me, like he was when he kissed my mouth, but rough. He pushed his hand into my stomach and shoved me out of the door with such force that the wind was knocked out of me and slammed his door.

I stayed outside of his plain, white door for hours, crying, until someone found me and carried me away.


	11. Chapter 11

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

It turns out that the person who carried me away was Ella, though now I'm not so sure that she carried me, because the pain in my thighs and arms tells me that she more likely dragged me into my room. Even though I thought after a break up I'd want nothing more than to be alone, I've never been happier to have a sister in my life. I was on my bed, fists clenching the sheets, back arched in a way that could no way be physically healthy. Ella was on the other side of the bed, sleeping softly and innocently without burden, while I am in pain.

Because when her boyfriend tells her that he loves her, she can fucking _speak._

I screamed into my pillow and cried again, causing Ella to shake to consciousness and she started to rub slow, comforting circles on my back until I calmed down. What was Fang doing? Was he fine, fast asleep, dreaming of ponies? Or was he in anywhere close to the amount of pain that I was in? I flipped over to meet Ella's eyes in an apologetic look and she smiled the best she could.

"Let's go eat breakfast, yeah? I'll have Iggy make your favorite, chocolate chip pancakes," she said as she shoved me out of bed until I was standing. **  
**

She didn't even ask me what happened, and I loved her even more than I already did for that. She took me down the stairs, dragged me by my hand, and when we got to the foot of them she said, "Oh, you'll be giving me ever single detail later, Max, don't you worry."

Iggy was in the kitchen with an apron on, standing in front of the stove, praying a pan with vegetable spray. Ella let go of my hand and tip toed over to him. He heard her, or course, but he acted surprised as she suddenly slid her arms around his waist and bit the back of his neck. He smiled and grabbed her hands, turning her around and bending her over the counter to give her a chaste kiss on the mouth. "Goodmorning, love."

I busted into tears right there.

Fang, licking my earlobe and whispering, "Goodnight, love," right before he disappears into his room like the mysterious boy that he is, on the first night that we kissed.

This was impossible.

Ella realized that I was crying and she whispered something to Iggy before coming over to me. "I'm sorry, Max," she said. I shook my head. She shouldn't be apologizing. "Okay. Let's go eat."

She took me to table and sat me down in a wooden chair as Iggy began to cook. She sat next to me and started to talk to me about her hair and how she was probably going to get it cut. It was exactly what I needed, and I wasn't crying anymore but smiling and laughing at her enthusiasm. I could forget for a moment, and she made it easy.

"And for you, the fair Max," Iggy sang, sliding a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of me. I inhaled the perfect scent of them and took a bite quickly. In ten minutes all three of the massive pancakes were devoured. They stared at me in disbelief.

"Jeez, have you been starved for weeks, or what?" Iggy asked, taking a slow bite of his own pancakes.

"No," I said, reaching over and taking a bite of his pancakes. "You are, like, the greatest cook _ever_. I can't believe it. And this is what I eat when I'm sad because they just make me soooo happppppppyyyyyyyyyy..."

They didn't say anything about that, but Iggy pushed his plate out for me. I was so _happy _that I got to eat those pancakes. They were so great. Ella was so lucky that she got to have a boyfriend that could make her these every single morning. She would never ever be sad.

**FANG POV:**

"Max is so screwed up. What the fuck happened?"

I looked from the ceiling to Iggy, who had busted into my room unannounced as per usual. He sat on my bed and socked me in the stomach until I sat up and looked at him.

"I really don't want to talk about her," I said, groaning and rubbing my eyes.

"Okay, so this morning I was making breakfast and Ella comes in and I give her a kiss and Max starts to _cry_. Like, hard. She doesn't cry, Fang. She's a tough girl. Then I made her some chocolate chip pancakes because that's her favorite food and all, then she devours them in about two seconds. I made her like five, dude. And she ate mine, too! Then she said that they made her so happy so she ate them when she was sad and she was all crazy for the rest of breakfast."

Max is pretty. She's really pretty.

"Fang!"

"What!"

Iggy looked at me, nostrils flaring. "What happened between you and Max?"

"None of your business," I growled at him, getting out of bed and going to my dresser to pull out a tee shirt. I shoved it over my head. Iggy stood and started toward me, hands on his hips. I turned back around and pulled on my jeans.

"Yeah, actually, it is, because I love her and you're my brother, and what happened between you guys _is_ my business because it screwed you both up and I'm not going to be able to take you guys fighting. So what happened. C'mon, dude, you know you can tell me anything. We're best friends."

I turned around and faced him again, gulping. "She said that I loved Lissa, because apparently Lissa told her that, then she freaked out or whatever and I told her that I loved _her_, because I do, and she didn't say it back, I shoved her out of my room, end of story."

He gaped at me in disbelief. "But she does love you," he said after awhile.

"Um, no she doesn't, obviously."

He leaned his head back and groaned, running a hand over his face. "Fang, you _did_ tell Lissa that you love her. I know because I was there."

"What?"

**MAX POV:**

Ella and I went out to the mall, which we all know is my favorite place ever, right? It was just us two, and it was nice. We went into shops and bought things, tried some things on. We were loud and obnoxious and stupid and the whole time I was so freaking _sad._ Iggy's pancakes are amazing, but they can't last all day. There's a crash, like after everything, and it happened when we were in Forever 2**1**. Suddenly, when holding up a dress that I thought she would look great in, I dropped it to the floor and cried.

We didn't bother to pick up our mess, but instead she hooked her hand around my waist and took me to the other side of the mall, where we got frozen yogurt. Tears still streaming down my face and getting weird looks from everyone that passed, I began to eat. Ella watched me in worry and then she smiled.

"Okay, so you knew you had to tell me sooner or later, right?"

I did, and I did tell her. I was surprised at how easy it was. I mean, I was still crying and sobbing and hysterical throughout the entire story, but I told her _everything_. Every detail about the weeks and how he kisses and how he holds me. Every detail about every kiss that we shared and how when I was lonely he could sense it and would sneak into my room at night and we would fall asleep. But, of course, I did have to get to the bad parts. She was great during the whole thing, listening to me intently like the world depended on every single word that left my tongue.

I was so happy to have a sister.

"No, Max, that's not possible," she said with such assurance I almost believed her. "He doesn't love Lissa. He freaking _hates _her. Everybody does."

I shook my head and wiped another round of tears from my flushed cheeks. "She's not lying, Ella. I know she hates me and all, but I can tell when people are lying. And she wasn't. She told me the truth, and I don't know if it was that whole truth, but it was the truth nonetheless."

She liked her lips and watched me. "Come on, Max." She stood up and took my hands, making me stand. "The boys are going out tonight and we are going to have a classic movie night. Okay? Good."

**FANG POV:**

I thought that nothing could make me feel better. I thought that the world was coming to an end and there was nothing in the world I could to to stop that. But really, there was a solution.

Getting totally completely wasted is the solution.

When they say when you get drunk everything's spinning, it's not the exact truth. Sure, everything is spinning, but it's also bouncing and lit up and upside down, too. And it's fucking great. I stumbled over to Max, who was wearing something I never thought she would. It was soooo hot, too. A red, skin tight halter dress that went up a foot from her knee and black pumps. Her hair was curly and shorter than I remembered, and her ass didn't look nearly as good as it usually does, but it was okay. Because she was here! I loved her and she was here! With me!

I touched her waist and spun her around. "Max!" I exclaimed, excited, and I pulled her into a tight hug. Her breasts felt smaller than usual. Hm. Maybe our breakup made her body physically not as attractive as usual. It's okay. I loved her, anyway. "I'm so sorry, Max. It's okay if you don't love me, too, because all that matters is that I love you!"

She smiled at me and nodded, snaking her arms around my waist. "It's okayyyyyy," she dragged. Her voice wasn't sexy as usual, either.

"Max, max, max, don't ever leave me!" I screamed at her, then I kissed her mouth. Her tongue was down my throat in a matter of seconds and her dress was riding up, the top tugged down, and we were in a corner, me against the wall, her in front of me, hands on my hips, fumbling with the buckle of my black belt.

I cocked my head to the side. "Max, are you okay?"

"Yuuuhhhhhhuuhhhha," she groaned loudly before smashing her mouth into mine again, licking my bottom lip. She bit my neck and sucked the skin into her mouth while she successfully undid the belt and pulled down the fly of my jeans.

I opened my eyes and touched her breast, caressed it with my palm. Her eyes were _blue._

"Hey, Max," I smiled. "You got contacts! I'm so proud of you, baby! But I liked your other eyes. They were so much prettier. Didn't I tell you that you're beautiful? Why can't you just believe me, Max?"

She bit my bottom lip and smiled. "I know I am, but it's fine."

Then I was being pulled away. From Max. I called out for her but I was still being pulled away. I was pushed into a car and the engine started.

"Fang, you fucking idiot, what the hell are were you doing?"

I smiled and leaned toward Iggy, who was in the backseat with me. "I made up with Max, Iggy!"

He rolled his eyes. "Dude, that wasn't Max."

I leaned back, appalled. "You're blind! Don't tell me that my Max doesn't love me! You're no fair!"

He slapped me but I just laughed and laid down in the backseat, my head resting on his thigh. "She didn't seem as sexy as I remembered her, Iggy. She had smaller tits and an annoying voice. But I still love her, even though she took my favorite red bear away from me. I can see beyond the horizon. I'm a nice guy. I'm goooodddddddd..."

And I was out.

**MAX POV:**

It was four in the morning. I was asleep but woke up when someone came inside. For a moment I just stayed there and closed my eyes, smiling underneath the sheets, because Fang was coming in and telling me that he missed me. He would kiss me and tell me that I looked cute in my pajamas, then slide into my bed next to me underneath the covers. We would share the same pillow and his arms would curl around my body to press it to his, then I would fall asleep to the beating of his heart and life would be good.

I didn't have him anymore, and the fact suddenly hit me with enough force to push a train across the United States.

"Max?"

I sat up and wiped my eyes, leaning over to flick on the light beside my bed to see Iggy coming into my room. He smiled in acknowledgement and I couldn't help but return it.

"Hey, Iggy." He sat next to me on the bed and wrapped his arm around my waist.

"Max, I need to tell you something. Really important."

His hand started to rub up and down my side and I looked at him, putting my arm around his waist as well. Of all the relationships I had with my foster brothers and sisters, Iggy's and mine felt the most sincere. Even with Fang, sometimes I had my doubts. But Iggy and I loved each other all the time, no matter what, and even though Fang was his best friend and him and I were going through some drama, I felt perfectly comfortable with him.

"Alright," I told him, a little scared, "shoot."

* * *

**Another note from me:** This story has **37** total chapters and is nearly **90,000** words long, it also originally had **759** reviews. Someone asked if _I (_Not KD93) could write an alternate ending, because of what I said earlier, so I'll leave that up to you guys to decide once you've read the last chapters.


	12. Chapter 12

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

I was expecting him to say something that I _didn't_ already know, so this wasn't even pleased a bit. I got that fluttery, excited feeling that eight year olds get when getting told a secret.

Because Iggy just said, "Fang really did tell Lissa that he loves her."

Even though I knew that already my stomach still clenched at the sound of it and I wanted to barf. I tightened my grip on his waist and moved closer, resting my head against his shoulder.

"I know," I groaned.

Fang was a little more muscular than Iggy, but they were close enough to remind me of him and the feeling of his body against mine.

"But he doesn't love her."

I snapped my head up. "So he told me that he loves me, but really-"

"No, Max," Iggy said, rolling his eyes. "Jeez. Okay, I was there when he told her, okay? Now I know that this is going to be hard but for five minutes I want you to shut the hell up and listen to me."

I nodded and gulped.

"We were at this party, I don't remember whose it was, but it was at a club and everybody was drinking, _Fang_ was drinking, and Lissa was there. And he was wasted. Totally. Like tonight."

Wait, he went out tonight? Did...was there a girl? Who did he go out with?

"And we were all just chillin' and he went up to Lissa and he was like 'I love you ssooooo much, Max!'"

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE? I NEED TO OPEN MY MOUTH!

"So, yeah, technically he did say it to her, but he thought it was you because he was a drunk idiot. It was _exactly_ like tonight."

I stared at him. "Can I speak now?"

He nodded and I jumped up from the bed. "What? He said that he loves _me_ to _Lissa_? What an idiot! And what do you mean like tonight?"

Iggy pressed his lips together. I jumped on top of him and held my hand to his throat. "Tell me or I will _kill_ you," I growled.

He grinned. "You're not as strong as you think you are, Max. I'm not telling you what happened tonight. It's unimportant. Actually, it happened_last_ night. Because it's two in the morning. I should get going."

He easily moved me off of him and stood in front of me. "Max, Fang's like my brother. And he's totally torn up about this, even though he's barely telling me anything. And he's too in love for his own good. Just give him a chance."

I was too deep in thought to even mutter a goodbye as he left my room and me in darkness.

I've never written in a journal before. It seems like the dumbest thing ever. But Ella begged me to do it and even bought me a little dark blue one, and since she is my sister and I love her to death and she's been so nice to me, I decided to write in it. She says it's good for coping and it's like gossiping to yourself.

Which is apparently "Super Duper Fun!"

I groaned, clicked my pen, and opened the first crisp white page with little lines on it.

hm. Why hello there, diary! This is Maximum Ride, and I love you. You are my best friend now and I'm going to tell you everything because you're a sheet of paper and maybe you can solve my problems because a real human being with FEELINGS and A HEART and A SOUL A FUCKING BRAIN can't.

Because I'm so into this crap, right?

**FANG POV:**

School was worse than it's ever been. I mean, I wasn't hung over anymore, since it was three days ago, but I still had a pounding head ache and seeing Max like she was, all broken...

It sucked.

At home, over the weekend of our breakup, we had our own rooms and we somehow managed to actually avoid each other, apart from a few instances where we would pass in the halls, where we would ignore each other like they weren't even there. But at school it's more difficult. Especially when they sit next to you in science and her chair is as far away as possible and my mind is quarreling between begging her to come closer and lighting her on fire instead of the little paper we are supposed to be burning in science.

But lunch is even worse because even though I'm sitting across from her, Iggy and Ella are beside me, wrapped in each other's arms, nibbling at necks and wrists, while Max and I are beyond awkward.

And then something terrible happened. Sam.

"Hey, Max," he said, lazily touching the side of her neck with his finger tips. I clenched my fists and jaw. "Do you want to come sit at our table?"

Please go, Max. Just get the fuck away from me.

"Um..."

"No, she doesn't," Ella piped. He glared at her.

"Max?" Sam asked.

Everybody stared at her like her life depended on it.

"I think I'm just going to...go. wanted me to talk to him about that trip to Europe." She stood, Sam's hands falling from her, and took her tray. Sam shrugged and walked back to his table after giving me his best attempt at a death glare.

"You're going to Europe?" Ella squeaked.

"Uh," Max said, "Probably. I want to."

I glared at her with my mouth slightly open.

_Then she said, quietly, "I couldn't be away from you that long," like she was admitting something that she didn't want to, and I felt my face spill into a wide smile._

_I leaned forward a bit, enough to make her lips tremble and eyes find my mouth, and whispered, "I'd die without you."_

I fought the urge to kick her underneath the table. Freaking _bitch_.

Then Max looked right at me, but I didn't look away. Her eyes lingered on mine for a few moments before they moved to my neck and her mouth dropped open.

"Yeah. I'm totally going to Europe," she said, and then she dropped her tray on the table and left. I didn't watch after her and instead reached over and grabbed a fry from her tray and brought it to my mouth.

"Fang," Ella hissed, slapping my hand and causing the fry to fall into my lap. "You have a fucking _hickey_? You guys broke up, like two days ago!"

I tried looking at my neck to check but that's pretty impossible. Ella handed me a little mirror that girls carry around for no reason and I flipped it open to see the red hickey on the side of my neck, then bite marks in my skin.

"How did I get this?" I questioned Iggy.

He tightened his arm around Ella. "You were drunk and lucky I was there because you almost fucked that girl."

Ella looked at me in shock and disgust. "What's wrong with you, Fang!"

Iggy shrugged. "He thought it was Max and he went all psycho, making out with her and telling her how much he loves her, asking her to forgive him...then she tried to get into his pants and he was totally into it but after I pulled him away he was talking about how she had smaller tits and a worse ass than he remembered-" He was smiling now.

"Shut up!" I told him. "I was wasted."

Ella's eyes softened. "But you do love Max? She totally loves you, too, but-"

"Ella, I am not having this conversation with you. Ever," I said, standing up and dumping my tray in the trash before ditching our last periods and heading to the beach.

It's a beautiful place, especially during a school day when you are one of the very few people there and it's mostly just you and the waves and the sand that your body is sinking into and so it is there that I decide to write my songs. They're usually mostly about Max, but right now I'm hating her pretty bad.

I stayed there for two hours, and my paper read:

-ugh

fuck you, maximum ride

Dun nun nun nun

So I was pretty ineffective today.

I groaned, tore out the tiny sheet of paper and crumpled it into a ball, then threw it out into the ocean where the waves caught it and swished it around. I thought about what it would be like as that piece of paper, or as a flower sitting on the waves. To have something else, something so much bigger than you making your life, throwing you around, and to have no say in it at all whatsoever.

Life's not fair.

For the rest of the week I basically did the same thing-ditching school. I mean, I went usually until lunch but the next two periods are P.E. and my elective, so there's no point in actually going, anyway. I went to the beach most of the time, trying and failing to write songs. Max and I just didn't talk, even though we were science partners. We just did our work and didn't say a word.

Today she sat at Sam's table.

They were in my view, her sitting in the chair right next to him. I watched as she laughed and he slipped his arm around the back of her chair. I gulped as she leaned her head against it, and I clenched the edge of the table when Sam hooked his foot around the leg of her chair and moved it closer to his so that the two chairs were touching. She lifted her head and ate her apple, leaning forward to listen to whatever his friend Jonas (THAT'S MY BROTHER'S NAME) was saying. Their table was close enough to mine that I could see down her shirt and see the outline of a black bra, and her two amazing breasts that it held, so curvy and big and...

I was getting semi hard and I could feel it, just thinking about all the things I wanted to do to her, so I forced myself to look away and that's when I noticed Sam was staring down her shirt, too. As a matter of fact, _everybody _at that table was. I grew angry quick.

Sam had no right to look at her that way. I mean, I was, too, but I was allowed. I'm her... Oh, my god. I'm her...nothing. I'm her ex boyfriend, I'm her ex best friend, I'm nothing more to her than Sam is.

And JESUS CHRIST MOTHER FUCKER does she have amazing breasts, and oh my god, do I want her to be mine...

I stood up abruptly and Ella and Iggy looked at me, along with the other people that were our friends, but I ignored their looks. I made my way out of the cafeteria, purposely nudging the back of Sam and Max's heads with my elbow. I didn't look back to see their reactions but neither of them decided to fight with me because I made it all the way to my car. Wussy.

He was ugly and a dickhead and was cheesy and corny and wasn't muscular, was so easy to beat in that fight awhile ago. What did Max see in him?

"I'm not using her, Nick," Sam had said to me. "I mean, she's smokin'. She has a bangin' body, too, and I'd fuck her anytime anywhere if she'd let me. But I'm not using her for anything."

I had glared at him for what seemed like hours before I finally reached out and punched him in the jaw. He had taken it, with tiny little attempts to defend himself, like he had known that he deserved it. I had heard him talking to his girl on the phone. He couldn't screw with Max, she was my best friend and if he screwed with her I'd kill him. I got halfway there.

I didn't drive to the beach today, but instead I went to the river, which was abandoned. I sat there staring at the moving water for two hours, just thinking about her and the things that she does that I love and the things that I hate and the way she looks here and there wearing this or that and the way that she looks at me and how she doesn't love me.

Nope. She doesn't. She was such a waste of my time. I poured my freaking heart out (I NEVER EVER DO THAT) and she can't say it back even though we've been together since eight years old?

The river didn't look interesting anymore so I reached out and touched my hand to the very surface of the water, barely even making contact, and then I got up from my crouch and left.

I didn't go back to school even though I could've made most of sixth period, and instead went straight home. Nobody was there, since Valencia was at work and all the kids were at school. As I passed Max's room to get my own I contemplated going in and smashing everything. After staring at it for awhile I went inside, but didn't smash anything.

Instead, I went over to her bed and closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of her. She smelled good, but not in the way that other girls do, a perfume smell. No, this was a unique smell...kind of candy...kind of...

I don't know, but it was delicious and I wanted to eat her. All the time.

There was something hard under my head, and it wasn't comfortable. I reached my hand underneath her pillow, the one that I had fallen asleep on not too long ago, and pulled out a...diary? I laughed. This is too good. Max does not write in diaries. She's not the type of girl.

But apparently she did, and since I'm pissed at her and I'm not her sensitive, sweet boyfriend anymore, I opened it up and read it.

.  
hm. Why hello there, diary! This is Maximum Ride, and I love you. You are my best friend now and I'm going to tell you everything because you're a sheet of paper and maybe you can solve my problems because a real human being with FEELINGS and A HEART and A SOUL and A FUCKING BRAIN can't.

Because I'm so into this crap, right?

No, it's actually because I love Ella and she wants me to do it, so I am.

.

Anyway, yeah, my name is Maximum. I named myself. Usually people just call me Max, except for Fang. He calls me Maximum. It sounds dumb when anybody else but him says it, so I'm kind of addicted to it.

Except now I won't be able to hear it anymore because he fucking HATES me!

I'm wondering whether I hate him or not, too. I mean, of course I don't hate him, I love him, but I'm wondering whether to be mad at him or not. On one hand, he said he loves Lissa, he pushed me into a _wall_, he's pissed at me even though I was obviously _trying _to say it back, he made me cry for days, and he got a FUCKING HICKIE FROM ANOTHER GIRL THE NIGHT AFTER WE BROKE UP

THE NIGHT AFTER!

But on the other hand, he said it to Lissa but he said, "I love you, soooooooo much Max!" like the idiot that he is, so he meant me, he pushed me into a wall but it didn't really hurt that bad (don't mind the bruise between my shoulder blades, yeah), even though I tried to say it I _didn't_, and HE GOT A FUCKING HICKIE FROM ANOTHER GIRL!

So I don't know if I should be mad at him or not.

HE GOT A FUCKING HICKIE FROM ANOTHER GIRL! SHE _BIT_ HIM, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE! AND HE PROBABLY FUCKED HER, TOO! WE HAVEN'T EVEN HAD SEX YET!

Who was it? Was she hot? Was she prettier than me? Oh, god, what if it was Lissa? If it was, I'd kill him, then her, then myself.

I'm so stupid. He said that he loved me! That emo boy (he hates being called emo, so I'm doing it, even though I'm not talking to him, I'm talking to you...a diary...I'm talking to a fucking notebook!) that barely ever smiles or says a word, much less something as beautiful as "I love you" and what did I reply with?

HUAH.

That's what I replied with.

.

I'm cold and Fang usually comes in here about this time and kisses me and tells me goodnight and I'm usually warm because he holds me and we fall asleep together but he's not here and now I'm cold.

I hate the cold.

I slammed the stupid book shut.

**MAX POV:**

Science class was more awkward than I could've imagined. I knew Fang was pissed that I sat with Sam yesterday, and he's been pissed at me for, like, two weeks, but today he's different.

I got in before him and he came in with Lissa, her finger hooked in the belt loop of his jeans, but he wasn't even looking at her. He was looking at the floor while she spoke, trying not to scream. And then he gently pulled her hand from his hip and slid into the seat next to mine. He moved his chair closer so there was only a foot between us. Lissa didn't say anything even though I knew she was dying to, and then she walked away and sat in her seat.

Then he said, "Hey, Max."

My heart beat sped up and my fingers started to tap. I managed to say, "Hi." But it was quiet.

He hadn't said a word to me in weeks. I thought maybe he'd forgotten my name.

He was looking in my eyes, and I wanted to tell him that I loved him and I wanted to cry and I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me but I stayed silent.

"Is your back alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess," I said. Just ignore the bruise and I'm good. But it really doesn't feel that bad anymore. The bruise is fading and I can at least move, and it doesn't hurt when it's touched.

"Sure? Doesn't sound like it."

I nodded quickly. He was still looking in my eyes as mine began to fill with tears. In freaking science class. I had to look away or I would've had a fit right there. Then he slipped his hand onto my back and started to rub it gently, scratching my shoulder blades softly.

"Does that hurt?" he said lowly.

I tried to shake my head but instead I crossed my arms on the desk, dropped my face into them, and cried harder than I had ever. I sobbed and I screamed and I cried and cried and cried, right in the middle of science class.

People started to whisper and then Fang kissed the top of my head, rubbing my back and telling me things, trying to calm me down. But I wouldn't.

"Ms. Ride, would you like to see the nurse? Or perhaps the counselor?" our teacher asked as Fang's hands moved over my back, massaging me.

I stood up, not looking at anybody as they stared.

"Would you like Mr. Martinez to come with you?"

I shook my head ferociously. If Fang came I would never _stop_ crying. Then I left the room.

I wandered around the school for fifteen minutes before I went into the bathroom, after I finally stopped crying. My eyes were red but not puffy anymore, and I was thankful I didn't wear makeup because it would have been all over my face. I wiped my eyes and took a few deep breaths before walking back to science.

And Lissa was in my seat. Fang's arm was around the back of her chair, fingers brushing her arm. They were laughing. He was talking to her. She looked at him and smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Then she turned back to her paper and continued to write. She's pretty, and I don't know what Fang was talking about when he said she wasn't.

What if he really does like her? What if they're happy, and I'm just screwing everything up because I've known him for a long time and now I think that I own him? I don't. I'm just his best friend.

"Ah, Max," Mr. Gates said to me in his loud and booming voice, causing everybody to look at me. I quickly looked away from Fang and Lissa. "Lissa didn't have a partner so she offered to be Mr. Martinez's while you were gone. You may work with Charlotte Muller for today, dear. Are you alright now?"

"Yeah, I'm okay, Mr. Gates," I said sweetly, and then I made my way toward her. She sat right behind Fang and Lissa, so for the rest of class I would have the pleasure of watching them flirt.

She was telling him some story about how she went on vacation and she got her own family boat, while he listened intently, nodding where he should and chuckling where he should.

She turned in her seat and set her hand on his arm sweetly. "Are you alright?"

He nodded. "I'm okay."

"Did...is there something...never mind."

She dropped her hand and continued working. His arm dropped from her chair around her back.

"Hey, didn't you date him?"

I turned to Charlotte. "What?"

"Nick Martinez," she said, like she didn't know he was right there and could totally hear us. "Didn't you guys go out?"

Yes, and it was amazing until I screwed up any chance of spending our lives together.

"Yeah," I said weakly.

She smiled. "Is he a good kisser? He has some really nice lips."

Fang said, still turned away, "Thank you, Charlotte."

Lissa scowled. I didn't say anything. He is a fantastic kisser. Beyond that.

"Is he?" Charlotte said again.

This time Fang turned around, looking her right in the eye. He didn't look at me, but his hands were on my desk, keeping him from falling over.

"I'm a fantastic kisser," he said to her.

Lissa turned around, too, and said, "Yeah. He is. Believe me, I know."

I don't care if they're happy. I hate her with every ounce of hatred in my body and there is no way I'm going to never be able to be kissed by his fantastic-kisser-ness again and there is no way that _she_ is going to be able to.

I won't let it happen.

I rose in my seat, grabbing my things, and went to the front of the classroom, then did my work there. Thirty minutes.

Two minutes later a little piece of paper was on my desk and in Fang's beautiful handwriting it read:

She doesn't know what she's talking about. Every time she just jumped me. My fantastic kisserness is reserved just for you.

* * *

**1.** I put the number of reviews this used to have because some people like to use it as an indicator of how good a story is, not because I want this story to have that many reviews. **2. KD93** believed she had matured in her writing and wanted to move on to better things, so she deleted her account and all her stories.


	13. Chapter 13

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

I looked back at Fang after I reread the note a thousand times to make sure that I read it right.

_My fantastic kisserness is reserved just for you._

Holy Guacamole.

Anyway, after I think my cheeks had been extinguished of their fiery red color, I turned around to face Fang. Lissa was still sitting next to him and she was talking but he was looking at me, and even from here I could see how beautiful his eyes were. Then something dawned on me and my stomach dropped.

I scrawled back in my ungirly writing:

_How do you know my back hurt? You didn't even know you pushed me into the wall. You slammed the door in my face before you could see, remember?_

I threw it back at him, and since I have amazing aim, it was going right toward his forehead and would have smacked into it if he hadn't caught it. He uncrumpled it and read over the paper, strategically holding it away from Lissa so that she couldn't read it. He looked at me for a split second and then turned to the paper, tapping his pen against his bottom lip for a second before scrawling something quickly. He threw it back and I caught it.

Because I'm awesome.

In reality, I was sitting here, at this desk, pretending to do my class work, but in my head I was towering over Fang with a knife, and then plunging it into his cold heart. Do you want to know why?

There was only one way that he could have known, since I didn't even tell Ella about my bruise, since she probably would have shot Fang, and that was...

"Asshole," I mumbled underneath my breath, gripping the edge of the desk.

Before I replied to Fang, I pulled out my phone and texted Ella:

_And this is why I do not write in DIARIES!_

While waiting for her reply, (or maybe she wouldn't reply because she's most likely in a supply closet making out with Iggy) I wrote to Fang's note:

_Oh, thanks for reading my PRIVATE STUFF you ASSHOLE! I can see that you really respect me. You're such a sweetheart._

_Max...I was mad at you, okay? I'm sorry. I really am._

_Yeah, and I was-AM-mad at you and did I go around invading your privacy? Going into your room and looking through your stuff? No, I definitely did NOT! I freaking trusted you!_

_I didn't go through your stuff. I just went and laid on your bed and it was under the pillow._

_And so you decide to read it, right?_

_Well, yeah. You know you would, too._

_Do you even realize how violated I feel right now? I wrote about YOU in that thing, Fang!_

_I know. I read it, remember?_

_ASSHOLE! I am so reading your journal._

_Max, I'm a dude. I don't write in diaries._

_I'll read your blog._

_I didn't write about you in my blog._

_Even when I was your girlfriend?_

He took awhile to reply, and I finally looked back to meet his eyes. He tried to give me an apologetic look but he didn't look sorry, and as I was about to stand up and go over and sock the bastard in the face, the bell rang and we were dismissed. Instead of going to lunch I went to the nurse's office and faked a stomach ache. My mom came and get me from her work, asking me if I was okay, but after she gave me some sprite and saltine crackers, laying me in bed with a bowl on my nightstand, she had to go back. I told her a sweet goodbye and as soon as I heard her soft engine pull from our driveway and down the street, I jumped out of bed.

I pulled out my laptop and searched for Fang's blog. I found it rather quickly, and I immediately went to a month and a half back, for the day when our relationship started and our feelings finally came out.

Copy, and paste.

**FANG POV:**

When I came home from school there were three pieces of paper resting innocently on my bed. I dropped my backpack to the floor and picked them up, sitting on the edge of the bed. After reading the first line I knew who it was from.

_Didn't write about me in your blog, huh?_

And on the rest of the papers were excerpts of my blogs. I took a deep breath.

_I like her. And it's so weird. I mean, it's not like I just now noticed that she's smokin' hot, since I've known her since we were little, but all of a sudden everything is different and now I like her. She thinks she's being secretive about her being head over heels in love with me, too, but she's obvious. She totally likes me. Of course she does. What's not to like?_

Underneath this entry Max scribbled: _conceited JERK!_

_We cuddled at the movie. Weird. I know. I don't cuddle. And we danced, too, which I don't do either. But it was nice. Then she kind of kissed my neck but not really. And then afterward we acted completely normal, which was great. Not._

_I'm tired because it's 4 a.m. Max woke me up. But I wasn't even mad at her because then I played her a song and we started making out and..._

_I told you she likes me._

_Anyway, she's hot. I kind of feel bad for beating up Sam now over her because he really likes her. And maybe she liked him. But I won't allow her to date such a DICK HEAD, no matter how in love they think they are._

_If I thought she was pretty before, I don't know how to explain her now that she's mine. It's really different in some ways, but then in others we are exactly the same. But I like it._

_Went out on our first date today and I spent the majority of the time just staring at her because she looked so hot. Iggy and Ella know about Max and me, how? I don't know, maybe they're vampires and can read our minds. And it's cool but sometimes I wish everyone else did, too, because Max and I can only act like we're even _together_when we're not in the presence of our family._

_Speaking of Max, I like her a lot. More than I've liked anyone. She's hot and bold. And she's a good kisser, too._

_Yeah, so holding hands with her at school was cool. It was like telling everyone in the world that she was mine and only mine. Sam and Lissa looked like they were going to rip our heads off._

_Oh, and new news! Whoop de freakin' do, Max is mad at me!_

There were no more posts after that. I didn't post after we broke up.

Then Max scrawled: _I like these ones!_

And there came all my shit talking about Lissa. I honestly didn't know that I talked so much about how stupid and slutty and annoying she is until someone actually spent their time laying it out in front of me.

Now I had absolutely where Max and I stood. I mean, we were making forward motion, but toward what? Getting back together or hating each other's guts?

Which one? Because there is a very big difference.

**ELLA POV:**

"Iggy," I said, snuggling closer into his tank top clad chest. "How's Fang been feeling?"

His arm draped around my shoulders and moved me closer, and I threw my legs over his lap. "That's confidential, baby," he said, gliding his pale hands over my calves.

I snorted. "_Confidential?" _I totally though that was only a girl thing.

"Yeah." He slipped his hands underneath my top to rub my stomach. "It's a rule. You can't talk to your best friend's ex girlfriend's best friend about his feelings."

I laughed. Fang? Feelings? Psh. "Even if the best friend happens to be your girlfriend?" I tried.

He made an "um-hum" noise, fingers scorching the flesh right below the edge of my bra, while the other hand began to run through my wavy hair, the tips brushing my neck, sending chills up my spine. Then he gathered the locks to one side and pressed his lips to the pulse and he whispered, "You're beautiful" against my skin.

I leaned back, kissing his cheek, and then asked slowly and cautiously, "Do you ever wish you could see?"

I had never asked him that before, because even though he didn't appear to be too sensitive about it, I knew that if I was unable to see, I wouldn't wanted to be reminded of the impairment. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to wake up every morning to a darkness that would never go away, to wake up and not be able to see the sun that is flowing through the thin curtains, not be able to see the lips that he was about to kiss, not be able to see the smile that he put on my face with the simplest of words. I cried about it at night, thinking about how hard it must be to not hate the world, to hate all of the people that had what he couldn't have. _Sight._

Iggy whispered, "I wish I could see you."

I didn't say anything, fearing that he would be able to hear how the tears were quivering in my throat, sliding down my flushed cheeks.

"Fang told me that you're beautiful," he continued, fingers moving up to wipe the tears from my face. "But I still wish that I could see for myself."

"Well you can try," I whispered as I stood. He cocked an eyebrow at the weight that had moved out of his lap. Max was at the library studying for a few hours, Fang was with Gazzy at his school's football game, and the rest of the girls were with my mom at the mall for shopping and a movie. We were completely alone. I pulled off my shirt and then stepped out of my shorts. I knew Iggy heard it, and his eyebrows hiked higher on his forehead. I unclasped my bra and let it fall to the floor, then flipped my hair so it fell evenly around my face.

I took one step back as I took Iggy's hands and pulled him from the couch and forced him to stand in front of me, an entire foot taller. I guided his fingertips to my forehead. They moved to my closed eyes, searched my face, pressed to my full lips. They touched my hair and slid down my neck to my collarbone, then he hushed a "Jesus, Ella" as they began to massage my breasts. Then they drifted over the muscles in my stomach and over my hips, gliding over my lacy underwear before squeezing my thighs and my butt, and then all the way down my bare legs to my ankles. When his fingers were done exploring my body they went to the back of my neck and brought my lips to his, but not before saying, "You are sexier than I ever could've imagined."

My fingers grabbed his blonde hair, pulling him closer, and in his ear I whispered, "Make love to me."

"But-your-mom-" he gasped out, hands low on my hips, fingers denting the tan skin there.

"She'll be home in five hours," I whispered back. I took my clothes from the ground and held them to me as I took his hand and yanked him up the stairs to my room, and dropped them inside to the floor before shutting the door and enveloping us in darkness. I could see just as much as the man lying above me. As we kissed and tugged and whispered our love for each other I realized that some of the best things in life cannot be seen, but felt.

**MAX POV:**

Whoever invented libraries should go to hell and burn. I mean, seriously, who wants to _sit _and _read_ with a whole bunch of other kids that are_sitting_ and _reading_ for _HOURS?_ Not me, that's for sure. But I was forcing myself to stay in this little hell hole, a whole bunch of miles away from Fang, who had taken Gazzy to his first Middle School football game. I'm thinking of maybe sleeping in here, so there is absolutely no chance that I will run into Fang. Maybe under the desks.

I think he read the blogs that I put out for him, I mean, they were pretty impossible to miss. But I haven't gotten any feedback about it yet...and Ella still hasn't replied to my text that I sent her a whole bunch of hours ago about the diaries. I sent her another one, to once again get no reply. I could probably hang out with Sam, I mean, Fang wouldn't be anywhere _near him_. But I don't know if I really even want to. I think that Fang and I are making progress. I mean, we're talking, right? That's good, right?

RIGHT?

I still can't believe that _dickhead_ read my journal! How could he!

But honestly, if I would have found a little diary of Fang's, HELL YEAH I would've read it. But only because it would be funny. Because Fang would probably write things in there that are stupid, like his blog.

Speaking of his blog, Fang _did_ write about me in his blog. A LOT. I only showed him some of the posts about me, but I was in almost every few paragraphs. So was Lissa, but in a different way. He just talked about her in a bad way. Except this once, when he called her hot, but said that doesn't change how big of a bitch he is. Also, I realized that all those nights that I spent thinking about how _smexy_ Fang is, he was probably doing the same about me. Which is either flattering, or creepy. Only girls are supposed to do that.

But I will admit that it made me kind of happy to think that Fang thinks I'm pretty. Really pretty. Prettier than I actually am.

I was brought out of my little trance by the sound of my cell phone buzzing against the table. A volunteer passed and told me that "Excuse me, Miss, but cellular devices are not allowed in this location. If you would like, you may step outside and answer your call or message, but otherwise you must turn the device off, for it is capable of distracting the other customers". CELLULAR DEVICES? WHAT ARE YOU, ONE FUCKING HUNDRED YEARS OLD? I flipped her off, and then opened my phone.

It was from Fang, and just the name on my screen made my heart speed up. I know, how pathetic was that? Very.

Slowly, I opened the message, like if I pressed the button down _gradually_, the message would magically change. And the message read:

_I love you too much._

I guess the button pressing down thingie really kicks ass.


	14. Chapter 14

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

I stared at the screen for quite awhile, just stared. What I've learned is that staring doesn't make you think any better than you did pre-staring. Because after five minutes of just staring at that stupid screen, it still looked exactly the same.

_I love you too much._

On the sixth minute, I started to cry. The dumb volunteer asked me to go outside because I was being too loud, but I didn't. I just cried and stared at the screen. Eventually, she got curious and sat next to me.

"You're Max, right?" I looked at her in surprise, tears blurring my vision. Crying sucks.

"Um, do I know you?" I tried to clear away my tears so I could talk.

She smiled sweetly, and I kind of felt bad for flipping her off earlier. "Yeah, I go to your school. I'm Alex."

Hm...Alex...Alex...who the hell is Alex?

"Oh," was what I said.

"So what's wrong, Max?"

Either somebody slipped something dangerous into my orange juice this morning or I just _really_ needed to talk to someone at that exact moment, because I told "Alex" everything. Yes, everything. And I don't even know her. Fang totally screwed with my head. I'm not the same.

"Okay," she said after I showed her the text message. "Well are you going to reply?"

I sighed and glanced at the screen, touching the keypad with the tips of my fingers. "With what? Just because I love him doesn't mean I can just write _I love you, too_ back. That seems weird. I'm just going to shut my phone off and act like I never saw it."

She gave me a weird look like that was the worst idea anyone could have come up with on the planet as I powered the phone off. I thought the idea was fantastic. This way I didn't have to reply, but if he called it would go straight to voicemail, and he'd think it was off the entire time. But what if he didn't call? And thought I was just ignoring him? Well, I was, but-

"That's a terrible idea," she told me after awhile, and then slapped her hand over her mouth like she was trying to push the words back in, and her eyes grew wide like she thought I was going to slap her.

"Well what should I do, smarty pants?" I cocked an eyebrow and roughly peeled her hand from her mouth.

She leaned back. "Well you and Nick live together, right?" I nodded. "Just go home," she suggested.

"He's not there," I said. "And if he was, then what would happen?"

She shrugged. "Just let whatever happens happen. You can't control everything, Max."

Her hand flew back over her lips and instead of taking it off, I stood up with my phone and waved goodbye before driving home to wait for Fang so that "whatever happens will happen." Because that's so much better than just ignoring him for the rest of my life, right?

Okay, fine. Maybe a little.

**FANG POV:**

She didn't reply. Ever. I told her that I loved her and she didn't reply. No "Well I don't love you back," or "I'm sorry" or "I know" or what I was hoping for: "I love you, too. Come home."

She just didn't reply.

Did she have any idea how long it took me to send that message? How long I varied the words, moved them around, tested them on my tongue to get what I wanted to say? Or how long I stared at it the screen, finger poised over the _send_ button, before I finally pressed it? Or that I checked my phone every five minutes for three hours just to see that I had _no new messages?_

_No fucking messages._

I checked again to read the above. Gazzy was shouting at the game, over and over and over, right in my ear, and then suddenly it stopped. I looked at him, sliding my phone into the pocket of my jeans. His eyes were wide, blue, and he was saying, "No messages. She doesn't love you anymore. She never has. You're stupid. Why do you do this to yourself? What are you _thinking?"_

But he's not saying any of that at all. He's pointing at the field to one of the guys that are in the blue football uniforms, and his eyes are so_sad._ I've never really seen Gazzy that sad before. I mean, he can get mad or angry, mean and skeptical. But not this sad.

I tune in to what he is saying. "...I mean, I tell him to stop, all the time, but I'm so small and skinny, and he's so tall and all...broad...and..."

Gazzy being sad _sucks._ Almost as bad as Max being sad. They're my family. When they hurt, I hurt. When Max hurts I think it hurts me more than it hurts her, but with the rest of them it's almost as bad. It's different with her since I love her so much, in a different way than I love all of them, but-

"It freaking _hurts._ The punching hurts. You probably don't know what it feels like since you're stronger than, like, everybody" Max punches_hard. "_But trust me, it hurts. I kind of wanted to tell Iggy, but he's so...I don't know; I just wanted to tell you. I don't really want or need you to do anything , but...I don't know...can I just transfer schools, Fang? Can you talk to Valencia for me? Or maybe you can talk to Max and she'll talk to her mom...speaking of Max-"

"What's his jersey number?" I interrupted him.

He looks surprised that I spoke. The team was at a halftime break, and they were huddled around their coach, who was speaking with a determined voice.

"Um, seven...Anthony Marx?"

He's big for his age. Not fat, I mean, but tall, really tall, and broad. His hair is dark at chopped like a military colonel and his hand just went up and smacked his team mates head. "Yeah, he failed two grades..."

When the game was over I beat him up.

Though I may not have been able to beat him so badly if I were in the eighth grade, at eighteen, the sucker was no match for me. Me and my_sexy muscles_ as Max would say. God, _Max._ Max has muscles, too, in her stomach, her skinny arms, and her long, long legs. Jesus, her legs. They are long and tan and toned, the kind that you just _need_ to have thrown over your shoulders. I didn't really think that it was possible to have dirty thoughts about someone when you hate them _so fucking much_, but just in case you're wondering, it is. Very possible.

"What the hell!" the guy screamed at me, his players surrounding him now, as he was lying on the floor, blood coming from his lips and nose.

"Don't mess with Zephyr," I snarled, the name sounding odd coming from my lips. "Or I swear to god it will get worse."

The football team kind of stepped back, but tried to act like they didn't, and then one guy pushed through the crowd.

"Hey, I know you! You're Nick Martinez!"

I looked at the kid, one with kind of rusty red hair, green eyes. He looked familiar, but I couldn't think of where I knew him from since he was a lot younger than me. I cocked an eyebrow. Gazzy was waiting for me by my truck.

"Um?" I said, looking at the kid while the rest of the team didn't scatter, but didn't care enough to be close anymore. Anthony Marx was now holding an ice pack to his eye.

"You're fucking my sister," he says, matter of fact. He's too young to say that, but more importantly, _I'm fucking his sister? _Obviously, he sees my confused look, because he elaborates. "Lissa?"

I laugh, but it comes out more of an odd breath. "I'm not fucking your sister."

He looks confused, then his eyes light up. "Oh, yeah! You're fucking that Max chick. Damn, she is fine."

Hearing her name makes my heart hurt.

Am I the only one who realizes that I'm turning into a girl? Nicole, Fangalina.

The rest of the team and some of the other kids around start to talk now, all talking about Max. My Max. Sam's Max. Just Max. The Max.

"Hottie."  
"Sexy."  
"Fantastic ass."  
"Terrific rack, too."  
"Nice eyes."  
"Hair, too."  
"This is why I'm excited for high school. No eighth grader has tits like that."  
"I heard she was born with them."  
"Bullshit. That's not even possible. They'd be bigger than the rest of the baby's _body."_  
Stupid motherfuckers.  
"Long legs. Like, really long."  
"And tan."  
"Probably amazing in bed."  
"Am I the only one who noticed that she has Megan Fox lips?"  
"Psh. Does not. They're better than Megan Fox's lips. More perfect."  
"I jacked off to the thought of Max's lips around-"  
"Shut up, you faggot."  
"You know you all have, too."  
"Yeah, but doesn't mean you have to say it."  
"Sam tells me about it. She's amazing, he says. Swallows it all."  
"She is _not_ fucking Sam."  
"Is too."  
"Way too hot. God, did you see what she was wearing Monday? Tiny skirt-"  
"Sam says lacy black thong underneath that-"

"Everybody shut the _fuck up."_

They do.

"_Nobody is fucking Max."_ I see a kid rubbing the front of his pants just from _thoughts_ of her, and I glare at him. He doesn't seem to notice. "And if anyone was it would be _me_. Not _any of you guys,_ and definitely not _Sam."_

I hate the feeling of lying. I should be able to own these words with confidence. She should be mine.

I back away from the stupid group and head toward the truck, and nobody says anything, just mumble. My phone beeps and my freaking _heartbeat_ decides to increase. I'm a girl. It's a text, for god's sake. From Gazzy, asking where I am, it's from Angel, telling me that she loves me, it's from Iggy, asking me girl advice, it's from Valencia, asking me to stop at the grocery store, it's from Nudge, telling me she found me the greatest shirt...it's from Max, telling me I'm her everything.

Okay, Fangalina, just open the damn text.

_hey dude. stuff to talk about. no, nothing bad. definitely not. so, so good. oh sgir, gitta fgo._

Hm. Iggy totally fucked Ella. Speaking of fucking, did Sam and Max really...? I'm torturing myself with thoughts of it. Max is yours. She loves you. She's your best friend. She couldn't do this to you.

But hey, with Maximum Ride you never know.

**MAX POV:**

She said to let whatever happens happen and what's happening is that I'm sitting on the couch and Iggy and Ella are upstairs "doing homework" (a.k.a. fucking; I will have a talk with Ella about this later), the TV is on mute, and the rest of the family is still out.

This "happening" stuff is really exciting. Time of my life. That Alex chick really knew what she was talking about.

I hear the jingling of keys and low voices, then the turning of a knob. By the breathing I know who it is, Fang and Gazzy, even though the couch is faced away from the door.

"Hey, Max!" Gazzy says, and his enthusiasm scares me. I turn around to face him, and I can't help but mirror that huge smile on his cute face. "You will never believe what Fang did-"

"Max, do you have your phone?"

Busted.

I switch my gaze over to Fang, his dark jeans hanging low on his hips, showing an inch of dark blue boxers before the black tee shirt that covered his chest. I could see his collarbone, or at least part of it, and I remembered biting him there, his jaw. His lips were pressed tight together, and his hair swooped so it was covering some of his eyes. I loved his hair, his eyes, his hips, his thighs-

I just love _him_. Why couldn't I just fucking _tell him?_ I could say it now, or in five minutes. Whenever. But I'm so scared. And I don't even know why.

"Um, it's turned off," I lie. "Why?"

He studies my face like he can read the lie on my cheeks as Gazzy screams something about lasagna and leaves the room, then says, "Mine's dead. Can I use yours?"

"Oh," I say. I gulp. "Um, who do you need to call?"

Without hesitation he says, "Lissa" and I know it's only to make me angry, because he doesn't actually like her, and _boy_ does it make me angry. I feel close to tears but I keep my cool as I say, "Well I don't have her number, sorry."

Same face, same without hesitation, he tells me, "I know it by heart."

"Yeah?"

I might be crying but I'm not sure.

"I call her a lot, so..."

Something got into me just then. I screamed at the top of my lungs, crying hard now, and chucked the pillow I was cradling to my chest at him. It hit him in his stomach, but he just cocked an eyebrow, and I stood up. On my way to the stairs I throw a stupid little plant at him, too, but he catches it before it hits the floor.

"I fucking _hate_ you!" I screamed without looking back and ran up the stairs. I think I heard him mumble "_language"_ but maybe it's just my imagination, trying to make seem like even more of an asshole than he already is. His assholishness is enough without my angry thoughts, trust me.

Ella and Iggy are looking at me with worried faces, Iggy without a shirt, and both of their bottoms are unbuttoned, her shirt is hanging loose around her slim torso. They try to say my name but I just go into my room, slam and lock the door. I don't look in the mirror because I don't want to see how terrible I look right now, but I fumble with some scissors, thinking about hacking my hair off wearing a blindfold on. I decide that's a bad idea. I think that's what Lissa did to her hair last month. At least, that's what it looks like. Well Fang likes it.

Fang. Someone with that high of a percentage in the "Asshole" category doesn't deserve love, much less from _me._

But I do love him, it won't stop, and thinking isn't getting me anywhere.

**FANG POV:**

She's cute when she's mad. Adorable when she's furious. But when she's angry, when she's crying, when it's because of _me,_ it's not adorable. It's heartbreaking, and I want to die. It's so sad.

So I'm standing here in the middle of my room, just standing here in the dark, thinking about dying. Thinking about Max, how along with all those things those boys said tonight (minus the ones associated with Sam) she's so beautiful, wondering if she's still crying. Wondering if she'd let me kiss her tears away if I tried. Wondering if I _should_ try.

I'm on the floor.

Wait. Why am I on the floor? Why...oh, god, there's something _on_ me. Ouch. Okay, it's not that heavy. But kind of.

"What the...?"

"I love you, I love you, I love you. _God,_ I love you. I love you, Fang. I love you so much, I love you. Please, I love you-" She dots each statement with a kiss, like her words weren't enough, a kiss on my cheeks, my forehead, jaw, collarbone, ear, neck, my nose.

It's, like, four a.m.

I grab her hair and yank her down to me, making our lips meet because she hasn't yet, and _god,_ it's been months. Her mouth is so sweet, so perfect, and that douche at the field was telling the truth when he said her lips were better than Megan Fox's. I kiss her and kiss her and kiss her, just like that, in the dark, my fingers in her hair to trap her face to mine. She's sucking on my lips, I'm moaning, she's breathing heavy and I'm not breathing at all. Her tongue dips into my mouth and her face is against mine, hands in my hair, opening her mouth, closing her mouth, tongue fighting with mine. I slide my hands down her body, the body I've been dreaming about for days now, and I squeeze her butt before going back up to her waist, holding her to me.

She suddenly pulls away, sitting up on my lap, straddling me. I look up at her, hands resting on her hips.

She says, "I love you so much," and reaches forward, pulling down my bottom lip and releasing it. "I'm so sorry."

Still looking up at her, at her beautiful face that is shown slightly in the moonlight, hair falling around it.

"I love you," I say. "Only you, okay? Never doubt that."

She leaned down and rested on her elbows by my head, the moonlight on her chest, I could see right down her white tank top. I kissed her right above her breasts, where there was a cute heart shaped mole, and she smiled.

"Are you promising me forever?" she said, running one hand through my hair.

I nodded, then stopped. "I'm promising you longer than forever."

Her fingers moved around my face as mine danced on her hips, underneath her shirt.

I said, "I wrote you a little song."

She bit down on her bottom lip, then I leaned up at repeated her action, she squealed. "I want to hear it but I also want to stay just like this. Can you just sing it for me?"

I wouldn't sing without the crutch of my guitar to anyone else.

Only her. It's always been her. She's the special one. The one that I love so much to modify my personality to her liking. To live to please her.

"Together would find us an opening. And moonlight would provide the spark. And that I would stumble across the key. Or break down the door to your heart. Forever could see us not you and me. And you'd help me out of the dark. And I'd give my heart as an offering. Too late, I'm sure and lonely. Another night, another dream wasted on you. Just be here now against me. You know the words so sing along for me, baby. For heaven's sake I know you're sorry. But you won't stop crying. This anniversary may never be the same. Inside I hope you know I'm dying. With my heart beside me. In shattered pieces that may never be replaced. And if I died right now you'd never be the same."

She breathed out an "I'm sorry" and I repeated her words, we were kissing, listing off the things that we missed between shaky breaths and tangled tongues, limbs. We fell asleep in my bed with her back pressed against my stomach, one of my hands in her hair, the other on her upper thigh, my face in her neck, inhaling her scent, letting her hair tickle my chin and nose. And in the morning I could kiss her awake and say, "Goodmorning, love" and Sam couldn't. Nobody could. Just me. Just me and her and this forever that we somehow promised each other tonight, and our hearts.

Fangalina has fallen in love. Hard.


	15. Chapter 15

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

Pony. Why in the world is there a pony? And why is it pink?

I told her to go away, but she looked at me and then started to nibble on my tee shirt. I kicked the pony in the stomach, and she smiled at me. Since when do ponies smile? Since when are smiling ponies pink, of all colors?

The pony started telling me a joke about Jalapenos. I laughed with the pony. She said that I was cute. I said that she should keep her thoughts the fuck to herself. She told me that I shouldn't cuss because my mother wouldn't approve. It was then that I realized that animals weren't supposed to talk.

The pony forced me into an ugly orange dress, one that was covered in feathers and sequins and sparkles and my name was etched into the butt. A cowboy told me that I looked hot. Another cowboy said that the other was a faggot and then lassoed the pony and forced her away. I thanked the cowboy and shot the other one in the forehead with the gun that was then in my hand.

I should've just shot the pony in the first place, and I wouldn't have had to wait for the cowboy.

I started doing push ups right there, and there were little bugs in the grass. I told them to shut up, but they weren't speaking. They didn't even have mouths. They pushed me-these teeny tiny things pushed me-and then I was awake.

That was my dream last night, just in case you're wondering.

I told Fang about my dream and he stared at me for awhile and then pretended to call the psychiatrist. I glared at him.

He smiled at me.

I couldn't really not smile, so I did.

He rose an eyebrow and his hand moved over my comforter.

I told him that he's pretty and he said that I was, too.

I threw a pillow at his face.

He threw it back.

I told him that he sucks.

He repeated that.

I kissed him.

He pushed me onto my back.

I let him kiss my neck and my shoulders.

I pushed him up and went screaming down the stairs toward the beautiful scent of pancakes.

"Hey, Max," Ella said, eyes scanning over my face, noticing how I was smiling. "Good morning?"

I stuffed a bite of pancakes into my mouth and nodded. "QWEKSFPOINVKA."

Which meant: FANTASTIC in "pancake stuffed mouthed Max language.

There may have been the faint sound of Nudge saying "hey" (I guess I ate _her_ pancakes) but I wouldn't know. I couldn't hear over the sound of my chewing.

Fang came in and sat in the seat next to mine, moving his hand to my knee underneath the table. Angel looked at me, god, she was cute. She said good morning and squirted syrup onto her steaming pancakes, then started to talk to her brother about the football game. Nudge was talking and talking and talking...

and talking.

Iggy was still at the stove, chatting with my mom, who was pouring glasses of orange juice. Ella kept stealing glances at Iggy. Fang's hand on my knee. I think people were talking to me, but I couldn't be sure. I was too busy realizing that my life is pretty fucking fantastic.

Fang smiled at me as I moved my hand over his, tracing the very tip of my finger over the prominent bones in it, and I wished everyone just knew. I don't care about the consequences, those ended, but I did care that we couldn't just be. We couldn't kiss or hug or touch in the midst of our family members (minus Ella and Iggy), we had to be sort of secretive.

I don't like secrets.

But as soon as we got into Fang's truck for school, we were able to be a couple again, me shamelessly leaning over the center console to kiss his neck, run my fingers through his hair as he drove. Him reaching over to put a hand on my thigh, to my cheek.

The school was in another shock as we emerged from the car. One day hating, the next day squashed against each other with his hand around her shoulders, hers slung around his hips. The boy and the girl laughing, her leaning up to peck his cheek, him sliding his hand up and down her back. The boy and the girl pulling into the school just for him to press her against a wall and molest her mouth with his tongue. The jealous redhead staring, shock, hurt, disgust. The redhead that had been pressed to the wall by the same boy only two days prior. The same redhead that the boy had gone over to's house, stayed the night, even.

Our lives were confusing the entire school. But hey, it's not like it's their job to understand it, right?

They seemed to think that it is, watching us closely, analyzing our every move. Maybe even taking notes on the way that our bodies moved together, lean and long, him taller than her, by quite a lot, their physical differences, her with light hair and dark eyes, him with dark hair and darker eyes. Him beautiful, her...

We were interesting. Lived together all our lives, loved each other since it was possible.

Anyway, back to me being pressed up against the wall.

"Fang," I gasped when he pulled back for a tiny breath of air then he leaned back in for another kiss. I put my hands on his stomach, pushing him back only an inch.

"What? It's been hard, we can't even act like a couple when we're home-"

"I know," I whispered, running my hands up and down his chest. "But we just made up. We have things to talk about."

He looked at me. "So you're doubting."

He began to pull back from me but I grabbed his shirt and violently brought him back to me so we were close, chests touching.

"I'm not doubting, Fang, but...we just have to talk. Okay? Please don't worry."

"Nothing bad?" Child. He sounded like a child. It was adorable.

"Nothing bad, baby," I assured him.

I pecked his cheek and turned toward my class, him swatting at my butt as I left. I turned around suddenly, remembering something important.

I grabbed the collar of his shirt and brought him down to my level, ignoring how his books dropped to the floor, ignoring the shocked look on his face, ignoring Lissa and how she was staring, and I pressed my mouth onto his.

"I love you," I said.

It's weird, saying that and meaning it.

FANG POV:

If there's one thing that you need to know about me if you don't want to get killed, it's that I don't like to talk. Only to Max. And when I'm yelling at douchebags. Then, oh, I'll talk.

Basically, I don't want to "talk" to Max this time. Especially when it's "nothing bad, baby" because that means that it is, but she doesn't want me to avoid the opportunity.

I love how much I know her.

Anyway, I was scared of this little talk we were going to have. I mean, we just made up. Can't we just laugh and make out and hang out and French kiss and hold hands and more making out and THEN have a talk? Wasn't that how it was supposed to be?

I live in Max world. Nothing is how it's supposed to be.

MAX POV:

I never ever thought that I would someday feel sorry for Lissa. Lissa, who's made my life miserable. Lissa, who's stolen my boyfriend. Lissa, who's told Sam that I'm in love with him. Lissa, who's picked on special needs kids.

Lissa, with droopy green eyes, hands pulling at her own hair, feet tapping erratically.

Lissa, whose heart was broken by the boy I'm completely in love with.

Life's not fair, whether your the head cheerleader or the kid that sits alone at the lunch table, it's not fair.

Nothing is. At the other end of a blooming relationship there is always someone left with heartbreak, at the other end of a man winning a lotto there is another family left poor, and at the other end of the world with someone having their mother run her fingers through soft hair is someone left motherless.

It's always nice to be on the good end, but I sometimes wish I could swap places with someone because I deserve to be miserable, rather than someone innocent.

Not that Lissa's innocent, oh god no.

She's a total bitch. But it's hard to think about that as she's sitting in front of me in English, sobbing, tears plopping against the black desks.

And Fang...he's just a douchebag.

How hard is it to say, "I'm not interested, I'm really sorry." It has got to be easier than leading someone on.

Eventually, her sobbing got rEaLlY annoying. Sure, she wasn't really distracting me from learning, she was just interrupting my sleeping. I needed this time to sleep; last night I barely got any. I mean, after we made out we talked and talked and made out some more, fooled around a bit, and finally got into bed. After that, Fang was totally groping me, and it's hard to sleep through that, so I kissed him goodnight and told him to stop or he would die.

I fell asleep aroud six, woke up at six fifteen.

So, you see, Lissa really needed to shut the fuck up.

"Lissa," I said, reaching forward to put my hand on her shoulder. "It's okay."

She shook away from me and said, "Shut up, Max. This is really none of your businesss."

I got out of my seat and sat next to the empty one beside her. "Um, I'm just trying to be nice."

She lifted her head. "Um, you're just trying to act like you know everything."

I glared at her. "I'm sorry about Fang," I said though clenched teeth.

She laughed without humor. "No, you're not. This is all yOuR fucking fault."

That kind of did it for me. I wasn't sorry anymore. Or nice, for that matter.

"It's your fucking fault you're so RePuLsIvE, Lissa. That you're a BiTcH. It's your own fault that he loves mE and not yOu."

She stands up now, and I stand with her. She's actually not that much shorter than me, but she's bony, and I'm fit.

Fang likes my body.

Maybe I should mention that to Lissa. Eh.

"He doesn't love you," she said. The whole class is staring, the teacher makes no move to stop us. He's even grinning a bit. "You're unloveable."

I laughed. "I'mu unloveable? Really? Then why was i the one who he was worshipping last night?"

It wasn't even a good insult, but I guess it got to her because she hit me. It was so weak that I felt like laughing. Then she hit me again, harder. I socked her in the gut. She cried out in pain.

Slap, hit, sock, spit. Sock, hit, spit, slap. Kick, shove, grab. Grab, shove, kick.

But one time, something terrible happened. Lissa pushed me, but it wasn't too hard, and I was shoved backward into a desk. The edge of it jammed into my back, and I'm pretty sure it left a bruise.

I lunged.

I totally kicked her ass. I was so proud of myself. I should get, like, a trophies or something for every time I do that.

"Okay, now that you're done, ladies, go to the principal's office, please."

"Noooo. Pleeeeassseee don't make me go," I wined. I don't wine.

Then the most amazing thing happened. Ever.

He said, "Fine. But that's the last time."

"Seriously?" Fang asked when I relayed the story to him.

"Yeah," I jumped onto my knees and pecked his lips, then settled on my butt again.

"So..." he started, playing chords on my thigh and coming closer so that he could wrap his arms around me, pull me to him. I would never get over that feeling, I swear. "What do we need to talk about?"

Um, nevermind. Just keep holding me like this. You can even kiss me, if you like. Yes, please. Yeah, that's a good idea.

"Just some stuff."

"You're gonna have to clarify that for me. I'm not as great as you think I am. I haven't exactly adapted the mind reading gene."

I looked at him and snuggled closer. Fang, though incredibly hard, was soft when I got to snuggle with him. I nuzzled his neck.

"Lissa."

"Max, I-"

I moaned. "It just seems like you were leading her on. Now she's all heartbroken and..."

He sighed into my hair. "We kissed a few times. Actually, she kissed me. But there's nothing there. Honestly. You're the only one, Maximum. That's how it's always been."

I kissed his neck quickly and threw my legs over his lap. "I know...I just kind of feel bad for her."

He laughed. "Yeah. Right."

I looked at him. "Fine. I don't. But still."

I pressed my face into his neck again. "Nah, I told her plenty of times that I didn't want to be with her. I never said I did. Or did anything to show that. By the way, I don't know her number by heart."

A flash of rage ran through me suddenly and I kneed him in the groin. He folded over and glared at me.

"What the fuck, Max!"

I sat him upright so I could latch onto him again, but his arms didn't come around me.

"I hated you so much that night," I explained and hitched a leg around his hip to get even closer. His hands slid down my sides and around my waist.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "Not just for that night; I was a total douche."

"Yeah," I agreed. "But I was a bitch."

I lifted my head and looked into his eyes, falling into them, wrapping my fingers in his hair. "But that's okay; because you love me, right?"

He looked at my lips, then my eyes. "Yeah."

That's why I love him. Some could give a speech, some could say 'more than the world', but Fang could say 'Yeah' and I know he means it one hundred percent.

"And I love you."

"That's all that matters," he said.

Then he kissed my mouth.

I melted. My liquid body probably stained the couch. Remind me to clean that up later. Right now I'm far too in love to do such a simple task.


	16. Chapter 16

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:  
**  
"Hey."

I looked down at Fang, breathing heavy.

"What?" I said, quite frustrated. His shirt was off, mine was, too. We were getting somewhere.

"Can I ask you a question?" His fingers splayed on my hips and mine were on his shoulders.

"Yeah." If you hurry up and go back to before. You got two seconds, boner boy.

"Did you sleep with Sam?"

Just the thought of that...ugh...what a turn off.

"Uh, no."

"Okay, just wondering."

I played with the hairs at the nape of his neck and looked at the pillow as I whispered, "I'm a virgin," with much shame. Ew, why did I tell him that? Maybe he deserves to know. He's my best friend. Boyfriend. World.

"How is that even _possible_?"

Stupid Fang! That's not what you're supposed to say. That's your cue to say, "Well do you not wanna be one anymore?" and then we fuck like wild animals!

Why hello there, hormones. Nice to see you, too.

I shrugged. I kind of wanted to ask him how many girls he'd slept with (him being a virgin was not even a possibility), but I decided it didn't matter.

"I..."

I put a finger on his lips that were full and red from our kissing. "I don't care."

He sighed and without warning crushed me to him then flipped us over so that I was under him, putting his mouth on mine with more urgency than I'd ever felt before, his tongue stroking mine, grinding his hips up to mine. I moaned and tugged on his hair, biting down his jaw-

That's about when Ella walked in.

It could've been worse. Gazzy. Angel. My mom. _Nudge_. And we could've been naked.

But it's still embarrassing.

"Ew ew ew ew ew...!" she exclaimed, covering her chocolate eyes with her hands like this scarred her.

I rolled off of Fang to the side of the bed, pulling the sheet up to cover my almost naked chest. I could feel Fang's boner against my back and he ran a hand down my side with a groan.

"Ella, please. We know you and Iggy fucked. We weren't even _close_," I said.

She went red as a stop light, and Fang started to kiss the back of my neck. He began to use his tongue, licking the side, and I let out a shudder. I let my eyes roll back so I closed them and Fang's hand went to my breast underneath the sheet, and I would've moaned with what he was doing to it so I pushed him off a bit. He chuckled in my ear.

"Wh-wha-?"

Right. Ella's still in here.

Fang popped up from behind me and put his hand low on my hips for support.

"Ella, even _I_ knew that."

Her mouth dropped open and she stared at us. It's cute how stupid she is sometimes. Her mouth (FINALLY) closed.

"Mom said that you have to take us to the mall," she said, looking at me.

Let's see: make out with the sexiest guy on the planet or go to a mall packed with annoying teenagers and _chaos_.

Tough one.

"Nah," I said. "No mall today."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You have to."

Wait-what? I don't have to do shit. Ever.

"Oh really?"

She seemed to backtrack, pushing incoherent words out of her mouth then she said, "Please, for me?"

So I was like, "Fine. For two hours. MAX!"

Not as in my name, dummies; like, the max amount of time I would spend in that hell hole.

"Thanks, Max! I love you!"

Bullshit. You love shopping and I'm your ride.

After she left I sat up on the bed and began to go to my closet to change but Fang grabbed my hips and took me back to the bed.

"Fang, I have to go," I said, struggling to get free when his mouth was doing those wonderful things. "To the mall."

"No," he said. "You can just stay with me."

Believe me, I wanted to.

"I have to go," I said, but my leg hitched around his hip. He moved his hips into mine. He leaned down and kissed my chest, then my navel.

I brought his head back and kissed his mouth hard, grinding my hips, pushing my chest onto his, and then just as his arms went to my backside I shot up and went to my closet, leaving him there with his hard on.

"I'll see you tonight," I said as I pulled a tee shirt over my head (The Killers are the best) and ran my fingers through my hair. I grabbed my wallet. "Do you need anything from the mall?"

He ignored me.

"Do you want to go on a date tonight, after I get back?" I asked, now turning toward him. He had his eyes closed, hands on his stomach, a bulge in his pants.

"Not anymore, tease."

I laughed. "I love you."

He opened one eye. "Then come back here."

He held his arms open wide and I had to use every bit of my self control not to crawl back into bed with him. "Don't leave meeeee," he whined in possibly the cutest voice EVER.

Fine. Five seconds.

I crawled into his arms and hugged him to me, then kissed his mouth for a short moment before crawling back out of bed.

"I love you," I repeated on my way to the door.

"I love you, too, Maximum."

I smiled and turned the knob, adding a, "Get the hell out of my room," before I shut the door behind us and hopped downstairs to go to my favorite place on the freaking planet.

What adds to the horribleness of the mall is that the annoying teenagers feel the strange need to stare you down until you feel like you're gonna burst into flames. Seriously, after the ten thousandth person, I had to look down to make sure I hadn't started my period, there wasn't a seat cover on my shoe, dressing on my cheek.

Nothing. Maybe they all _really_ hated the Killers. Stupid asses.

"Max, can we go to _that_ store?"

Do I even have a freaking choice?

**FANG POV:**

Max is really hot and all, but when she's gone, I seriously don't only miss her ass and delicious tan skin. I actually miss her company, how she's demanding and kind of a bitch sometimes, how she's hardcore and tough.

There's nobody like her in the world. Not like I'll ever tell her that, but still.

I was playing with Angel, brushing the hair of one of her ponies, when Max walked in, exasperated. She sighed and dumped four bags in the hallway, a squealing Nudge and Ella running in after her. I caught her eye and gave her a smile, god, she was beautiful. She smiled back and I went back to brushing the pony's hair.

When I was about to get through a tangle, arms came around my waist, and there was a kiss to the back of my neck. I froze. Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel were all here. Even Dr. Martinez was in the kitchen with Jeb.

"I missed you," she whispered in my ear and then she stood from her crouch, grabbed the bags, and hiked up the stairs.

When I looked back at Angel, a blond eyebrow was hiked on her forehead.

"What?" I snapped. She shrugged and went back to her purple haired pony, a smirk on her lips.

Fuck.


	17. Chapter 17

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**FANG POV:**

Late at night when everybody is asleep I go and sleep with Max. Some nights I don't, of course, like when I masturbate, or Gazzy is scared of monsters and has to sleep with me, or when Angel is doing an experiment and puts a baby monitor in my room.

Tonight I couldn't stand to not see her, and while the house was silent I snuck out of my room and down to hers. She was sleeping already, legs pulled up to her chest, hair sprawled around her in madness. She was wearing an over-sized tee shirt and nothing else beside underwear.

I slid into the bed beside her and she immediately crawled across the bed to wrap herself around me. I smiled and watched her as her arms went around my chest. When she was sleeping she was gorgeous, vulnerable, and not so...strong.

A leg hooked around my hip.

Hm.

Then her hands went around my neck, and she buried her face there.

Ah.

When her tongue flicked out to lick the length of my neck I knew she was awake.

"Sneaky, sneaky," I whispered, curling my arms around her waist. She smiled against my neck and licked me again.

"Mmmm..." she said, and her leg tightened around my hips. Another thing about my Max that I love and hate is how she really has no idea at all what she does to people. Especially me, now, as she's begun to move her hips.

I flipped us over so that I was on top of her and her eyes finally opened, swirling chocolate and red from lack of sleep. I sighed.

"You're tired," I stated, then leaned down to kiss her lips once.

"Nooo, I'm not," she wined, grabbing my hair to kiss her again. She's been super horny lately. Not like I don't like it-just stating the facts.

"Yeah, you are."

I released her hips and flipped us back over, curling around her hot body. She tried to flip over but I held her tighter, not allowing her to. I licked the back of her neck and moved my hands to the top of her thighs.

"You're delicious," I whispered and squeezed her leg, then pulled myself closer and put my head on her shoulder.

When she fell into deep sleep and said my name, then said that she loved me, that's why I snuck into her room at night. That's why I always kissed her with as much passion possible. That's why holding her hand didn't feel like holding hands, but holding everything that mattered to me.

That's why I would love her forever.

"I want to move in together."

I looked at her suddenly. It was Saturday and we were sleeping in. I thought she was sleeping, and I was watching her but I guess not.

"What?"

One eye opened, then the other. She moved closer to me.

"You and me. A house. Together. Away from here."

I quirked an eyebrow. "You don't like it here?"

She shook her head. "No, I like it here. We'll stay in town, just...a few miles away."

I smiled. She's cute.

"Fang, I'm serious." Huh? "I just want it to be me and you."

"Max, as much as I'd love to spend every living second with you, we're not even 18 yet. Well, I am, but not you."

She rolled her eyes. "I turn 18 next month. And we have money."

"We're not even out of high school," I point out.

"In two months we will be," she countered.

"Max," I said. "Our family doesn't even know that we're together yet."

She sighed. "Then we tell them."

"I want to move in with you, but no. Not now."

"Next year."

"No."

"Two years."

"Maybe."

"By the time I'm 21?"

"Definitely."

She smiled. "M'kay."

"You're a weirdo," I said, rolling away from her.

"But you looovvveee meeeeee," she teased.

I shrugged. "Eh. A little. I have to. I've know you since we were 8."

Her face dropped. "A little?"

I laughed. "Yeah." I used my fingers to show her a half of an inch and squinted at them. "This much."

She glared at me.

"God, I could never move in with you," she scoffed, then jumped out of her bed and slammed the door behind her.

What a stupid bitch. I was joking. Duh. I love her with my existence.

**MAX POV:**

Stupid Fang. He loves me this much (half of a fucking inch).

Butthead.

Enough about him, though. Nudge has been driving me absolutely crazy.

"So there's this guy Josh, right? And, like, oh my god, he's insanely hot. Today I went for a jog and I saw him riding his skateboard. It was so hot. Anyway, so I was, like, watching him ride it and I was so distracted that I fell." Darn, I wish I could've been there. "It was, like, SO EMBARRASSING. Apparently he saw me because he came over and was like, 'Monique, are you okay? That was a gnarle fall.' I wanted to die. DIE!"

I rolled my eyes during the brief intermission in which she took some time to freaking breathe.

"Anyway, I was like 'Yeah, I'm fine. I just got distracted.' He kind of laughed and then helped me up. Oh my, god his hands are so hot."

What?

"Then we started walking and I was, like, so self conscience because I was, like seriously, in sweats and a tee shirt and all sweaty. But he has the most beautiful eyes, Max..."

Bull. Fang does.

"And after nobody really said anything and we were kind of back home, I just blurted, 'I'm really embarrassed because I fell.' But then all he said was 'You're so cute,' then he KISSED MY CHEEK!"

Oh, my, god. No freaking way.

"Okay, so he likes you, right?"

She made an irritated noise. "It's not that simple, Max. What if he kisses every girl's cheek? What if I'm not even special?"

Oh, Nudge, you are definitely special. I don't know one person who can talk as much as you. It's a true talent you've got there.

"Well what if he doesn't kiss every girl's cheek and you are missing out on a great opportunity?"

I wanted to barf. But she would kill me for messing up her shirt.

She pondered this for a moment, looking up at the ceiling.

"You're soooooo right, Max! How do you have the best advice when you have, like, no experience with guys? Oh, nevermind. Thank you! I'm gonna go now."

Psh. No experience with guys. Psh.

Psh.

Nudge ran out the door, squealing. I rolled my eyes and sank down onto her bed, stretching my arms out, closing my eyes. I hadn't been getting too much sleep the past few weeks.

"I love you thiiiisssss much."

I squinted forward to see Fang smiling, his hands spread out wide. I tried to ignore how his black tank top showed his muscles and it was riding up his hips, showing me them.

I plopped my head back down. "You're an idiot."

He chuckled, a low, sexy sound.

"But you love me."

Eyes still closed, I thrusted my hand in the air, showing him a quarter of an inch with my forefinger and thumb. "This much."

"Aw Max," I heard him say as he slid next to me on the bed. "You know how I feel about you."

I put the quarter of an inch toward the sound of his voice. "Yes. This is how you feel about me."

My hand was grabbed and pinned above my head, then my lips were covered by much warmer ones. Parted. A tongue.

"Fang," I said, opening my eyes to push him away. "We are not making out on Nudge's bed."

I closed my eyes again, then felt his hands slide under me as we fell. There was no pain because his arms stopped my fall.

"What about on the floor?"

I sighed into his mouth.

"If you tell me how awesome I am," I said as a compromise.

I opened an eye to watch him contemplate this. Finally he said, "No deal."

I hit his chest. "You're a terrible boyfriend," I said.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, and now I'm your boyfriend."

I grabbed his shirt and flipped him over, straddling his hips.

"How amazing am I?" I urged, trailing my fingers down his stomach. He gulped. I licked his neck. "Tell me..." He didn't. I reached down and touched the front of his pants.

"Holy fucking _shit_."

I squeezed.

"How much do you love me?"

He grabbed my hips hard and smashed his mouth into mine.

"With my life," he whispered.

**FANG POV:**

When we made it back to school on Monday, Max's arm around my waist and mine in the back pocket of those jeans that made her ass look fantastic, Lissa and Sam were holding hands. I watched as he leaned down and kissed her neck, and she curled into his side.

Max and I started laughing at the same time.

Lissa stared at me, Sam stared at Max. While they were watching and I pretended not to see them, I pulled Max toward me by her waist and bended her back into a kiss. Surprised, she threw her arms around my neck and leaned back against my arms.

When we finally pulled back, we walked by them toward our lockers and Max said, "You'll catch flies like that," without even looking at them, I wanted to kiss her again.

When she trailed her nails down my chest and licked my bottom lip, then touched my covered dick, it took every amount of self control not to rip off her clothes and fuck her right there.

She laughed. "Bye, babe," she called before walking toward her homeroom.

Science was hell.

I mean, Max was in that class, with me, but so was Lissa. Sitting on my other side.

"Hey, Max, I hate your shirt," Lissa hissed.

I liked Max's shirt, riding up her stomach.

"Hey, Lissa, you're a slut."

God.

"Hey, Max, do I look like I give a fuck?"

"Hey, Lissa, suck a dick."

"Hey, Max, I sucked your boyfriend's."

She was terrible. Just saying.

Max stood up, grabbed fistfuls of red hair in her fingers.

The teacher looked up from his writing as I stood between the two girls. I didn't want Max to get suspended _again_. That's like the fourth time since we've been here. She could get expelled.

"Maximum, I won't condone you if you get in another fight," he reminded her.

Max looked at Lissa for another moment and tugged he hair, then released it.

"Lissa, you lay a _finger_ on him so help me _god_..."

I liked jealous Max.

"So help me god...what?" Lissa tested, then ran a gentle finger down my chest.

Max swung and I heard a crack. Broke the bitch's nose.

_Again._


	18. Chapter 18

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

"_Why_, Max?" My mom questioned, squinting at me. "I get that sometimes you just have to punch somebody, but why Lissa? She's such a sweetheart."

Everybody looked at each other, Fang and I met eyes, and then at the same time everybody cracked up. My mom looked at us with worried faces.

Iggy choked out, "She is such a bitch, Valencia."

She stared at him. Fang said, "Iggy, language!"

More laughter. My poor mother.

"Why. Did. You. Hit. Her."

Dead silence.

"Max," she warned. Fang looked at me and gave me a tiny shake of his head.

"She um..." C'mon, excuse, Max. You're a pro at this. "As you know, Fang and her had something going on for-"

"A very brief time," Fang interrupted in a cold tone. "It doesn't even count as something."

I looked at him. "Anyway," I continued, "he ended it because he started to like someone else." Fang pinched my thigh, so hard I whimpered. "And today she started calling him bad names and such. He's my best friend, I can't just let him get walked over."

True.

"And you don't think he could stand up for himself?"

I waved a hand in the air. "He can't hit a girl."

She rolled her eyes. "Hitting isn't the only option, Max."

Really? Oh, I didn't notice that, you see. Now I will restrain myself from physical violence, now that I know there are other options.

No duh! Hitting is just fun!

I suddenly sniffed the air. "Wait-is that _chocolate chip cookies_?"

My mom glared at me, and I smiled. Soon she grinned back, got the tray, and set them in my lap.

"I love you, Mom," I sang, biting into one.

Heaven. On a fucking tray.

**FANG POV:**

I worry about Max around chocolate chip cookies.

No, she doesn't really gain weight, loose those delicious curves, but she just goes completely insane. It's her and the cookies and the rest of the world is gone. Even me. I'm no match for dough and chocolate morsels.

Not like I'm jealous of a _cookie_. That's just weird.

Anyway, she finally calmed down after they were all of the cookies were gone and we wrestled for the last one. I don't necessarily like chocolate chip cookies, but I like watching her body move, watching her run and have her breasts bouncing up and down. I like grabbing her underneath her thighs and tackling her to the floor, then watching her stare at my lips as I slowly devour the cookie. I fed her half, and she watched me the entire time she chewed.

Then she had the nerve to _lick_ her lips while her family was in the next room.

Then _groan_.

Quickly I was to my feet, and sitting on the couch, just as Ms. Martinez called goodbye to us from the door, five kids trailing after her.

I heard the door lock, then the car engine start, pull away from us.

"We're going to be alone," Max said. "For the entire _night_. What to do...what to do..."

Then Max was straddling my lap, and her hands were in my hair, tongue tracing the line of my jaw.

As soon as she got to my ear and whispered, "I want you _bad_," with a flick of her tongue against my earlobe, I took her hand and yanked her up the stairs into my room in a world record time of two seconds, then I turned to shut and lock the door. It was stuck or something so it took a few seconds longer than it should have. When I turned around Max was already stripped down to lingerie. My mouth dropped open.

Maximum Ride in lingerie. I thought I'd never see the day.

Dear god, her hair's down and falling over the top of her breasts.

I couldn't move. I was frozen, staring at her.

"Is it...am I...are you okay? I've never done this before, and I don't know...oh, god...did you even want to do this? You never said so...I need to stop...assuming..."

Then I could move, only to push her onto the bed and place my mouth on her cheek.

"You are incredibly beautiful," I whispered and the rest of the night was drowned out in whimpers and moans, discarded clothing, searching hands, wandering fingers, curious tongues, hushed words.

And so we made love.

**MAX POV:**

Yeah, after about a month of raging hormones and being unable to keep our hands off of each other, we had sex. Big deal.

IT WAS A _HUGE_ DEAL. AMAZING. BREATHTAKING. BEAUTIFUL.

And he was sooooo sweet. It's Fang. He's strong and silent, so you can imagine what I thought the sex would be like. Strong and silent.

It wasn't. He whispered sweet things in my ear, helped me through the pain, told me what I was doing to him. Then he got dirty, and I _loved _dirty Fang. I got turned on by how he looked at me, so oh my baby Jesus, him talking dirty...

Just oh my god.

Then he got rough, and that was unbelievably sexy. Back to being sweet. Then slow, teasing. He got creative, and then got vocal.

I stared at him now, naked, panting on the side of me, arm thrown over my naked chest.

"There's no way you were a virgin," he pants out, rolling onto his side to look at me. I stared at him, gasping for breath, reaching over to touch his side. "You're so good."

I nodded. "You-oh my god."

He pulled me on top of him, my limp body falling over his.

"Did I ever tell you that I love you?" he asked, brushing my hair away from my forehead as I tried to calm my breathing. His hands slid down my sweaty body, pinching here and there, smoothing there.

I tried to tell him that I loved him too but my words weren't forming right, so he continued, playing the piano on my lower back, my spine.

"That you mean the world to me? That without your love I'd be lost? And without _you_ I'd die? Did I ever tell you that, Maximum?"

This is what I meant about him being sweet.

I reached out and touched his lips. He kissed me slowly. "You taste like chocolate," he whispered.

Thanks for the cookies, mom. This is what they resulted in.

* * *

_loveofallthatisawesome: _Hey you guys, I have a question. Has anyone read this story entirely from when keepdreaming93 had it on her account? If you have, can you please say so in a review cos I need a favor from you.


	19. Chapter 19

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

Sore. Sore. Sore. Sore.

Feels so good.

This soreness, if it was a flavor, would be chocolate chip cookies.

Fang was sleeping, face on my chest, arms sprawled across the length of my body. We were underneath the covers somewhat, but I could still see his naked legs and back, some of his butt, while I was mostly uncovered.

"Maaaaax," Fang whined. "Come back to sleeeep."

Contemplating this, I looked at the clock.

"Shit! Fang!" I shot up and his head fell into my lap. Which was quite embarrassing, considering I was naked. He snuggled into my thigh. "They're gonna be here any second!"

Then I stood, and he caught me from my hips.

"Pleeeaasee, baby? I'll miss you."

I looked at him. "Get your clothes on, Fang."

"Noooo," he whined. I pulled away from him (against my own will) and began looking for my clothes, tossing the ones that I had discovered of Fang's.

I kissed his mouth and walked out of the room, fully dressed, just as everyone arrived home, calling, "Maaaaxxx! Faaaaannnggg! We're hoooooooooome!"

Gazzy.

I smoothed my wreck of hair in the hallway mirror, then gave up and tied it back before hopping down. The stairs.

Sore.

Sore.

Sore.

Sore.

Sore.

Sore.

It was painful.

Anyway, I got there, asking them how their stupid business trip thing was, kissing them on the head (except for Iggy, I kissed his cheek) and prancing around like there _wasn't_ a massive pain between my legs.

"How was it here?" my mom asked. "Did you and Fang get along well?"

Very, very well. During sex, we are. Very.

"Um, we were fine," I said, and Fang, being Fang, nodded. Nobody saw it, I doubt, but his hand was at mine, one finger locked with it, behind my back.

Ella was wrapped around Iggy, and I got to hold a finger.

.

.

Sometime during the day after all those "I missed you sooo much!" even though it's only been a day, and an amazing batch of cookies, we were all curled up together on the couch. Ella was in Iggy's lap, his arm subtly brushing the side of her breast, Gazzy with some girl from his school, holding her hand, Nudge with that Josh guy with the hot hands, Jeb and my mom in the kitchen, flirting, occasionally kissing, and even Angel with her my little pony dolls, Fang and I a healthy foot away from me on the couch.

I _hated _it. He was my boyfriend, and we had to _hide _it. I didn't _want_ to hide anymore.

So I screamed, "FANG IS MY BOYFRIEND!" at the top of my lungs, the entire room going silent. Someone had even muted the TV. Fang rose an eyebrow at me, mouth ajar. Everybody had some variation of his expression on their faces, and I wanted to curl into a ball and die.

_Die_, I tell you.

I gulped and tried to shrink back into the couch, but it was impossible. My mom and Jeb came into the room from the kitchen and my mom said, "What?"

Which is when Nudge started to run her mouth. I love her, but then sometimes I freaking have no choice but to doubt it.

"So we were all, like, sitting here watching the movie, and all of a sudden Max screams that she is going out with _FANG! _Isn't that, like, the cutest thing _ever?_ I could totally tell, I bet you all couldn't tell. They are so, like, in _love._ It's totally obvious, you guys. Fang stares at her all googly eyed all the time and Max is always, like, swooning over him, especially when he has his shirt off. I don't really blame her. I mean, I know I'm, like, a little younger than them, but sometimes even _I_ swoon at Fang's abs. Although Iggy has good abs, too. Anyway, I think I once saw them kiss, but nobody else seemed to notice it, so I just thought it was my imagination because I've wanted them to get together since, like, _for-ev-ur._ And-"

How could Josh with the hot hands _stand _her? Did she even shut up long enough for them to kiss? And doesn't she know any more words besides _LIKE?_

Josh was poking his abs, Fang had his hand over Nudge's mouth, Iggy was smirking, Ella was smiling, and everybody else was just..._staring._

My mom said, "Are you guys...seriously? Why didn't you tell me?"

Um...

Iggy said, "They were so obvious. You guys are so _blind!"_

And even in my deep, dark hole of doom and embarrassment, I had to laugh at that.

Fang said, "Oh _really_."

And I was relieved because that was the first time he'd talked in awhile.

I said, "Yeah, mom," really quietly.

She smiled.

I closed the foot of space between Fang and I on the couch, and while the rest of our family talked and talked and talked to us, maybe I was replying but maybe I wasn't, and it didn't matter because Fang had drawn his arm around me, his other hand moved to my thigh, and I could kiss him _whenever the hell I wanted to_.

**.**

**.**

"Well that was completely totally random."

I looked at him. "I'm sorry. It's just..."

"I'm not _mad..._you're just weird."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. Aren't you happy that it's over with?"

He rolled onto the bed with me and started to rub my stomach. "Yeah, I guess. But then I'm not, too. Now we can't go into the same room and close the door without them assuming that we're doing stuff. Before they would just think we were talking, as best friends."

I ran my hand through his silky hair. "You're still my best friend."

He flipped around to lay his head in my lap and looked up at me. "You're mine, too."

"Forever?"

He smiled up at me and I loved him even more; I didn't think it was possible. "Maximum, we already covered this."

I sighed and traced around his lips with the tip of my finger. "I know, but I like hearing you say it."

"You know I'm not much of a talker."

I rolled my eyes. "Please?"

He shook his head and I had to move his hair from his eyes again. He bit my fingers.

I leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth, then parted his lips and whispered, "Please?" into his mouth.

He sighed when I moved back and his hands traced my curves. "I'll love you forever."

"Like you mean it," I scolded.

"Nah," he said, then closed his eyes and fell asleep right there, in my lap. I brushed my fingers through his hair and noted how he slept, peaceful and beautifully.

I thought he was asleep and I was about to pass out, too, when he said, "I'll love you forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and _ever."_

Dang. That's a long time.

**FANG POV:**

If there's something you want to know about Max, it's that she can be selfish, but when it comes down to it, she'll put everything she has for the people that she loves the most.

In this case, it wasn't a big deal. It involved me and the last of the cocoa puffs, which are our favorite kind of cereal. Since I'm nice and in love with her, wanting her to stay in love with _me,_ I pushed the bowl over to her across the table. She looked at me and smiled, then started to eat it.

It was Saturday, and we were going to the beach. It's one of those perks to living in Cali. **  
**

"Hey Fang?"

"What?"

Her fingers walked across the table and landed on top of mine. She looked around, checking if anyone was there, and said, "I'm thinking about sending the family away for the night, and you say that you're staying over at Brett's, I'll say Cristy's, and..."

It was about a month after. I knew she _liked_ the sex, but not as much as me, I don't think. I was restraining myself from suggesting it about two _days_ after. But I'm a good boyfriend (or so I like to think), so I didn't mention it.

"Good plan," I said and winked.

She said, "Cool," but I could tell she wanted to use a whole _bunch_ of other adjectives.

I didn't push it, but reached over and kissed her cheek. "Can't wait."

**.**

**.**

I've seen Max completely naked, but I still think her being in a black bikini is worse. It's just begging to be torn off. And she's freaking _running around_, and then she gets out of the water and her body is glistening in the sunlight, the drops of water that are running all over her sparkling, and she sits on my lap. I slide my arms around her and fight the urge to fuck her then and there, and settle for the kiss that she gives me, the one that turns not so chaste in a matter of seconds as she pushes me onto my back, lays on top of me, and parts my lips.

"Your _mom,"_ I warn.

"She's preoccupied."

I want her badly, and all I can think about is tonight. We've already convinced the family to stay at Jeb's other house, the one on the strand, and that we're staying at our friends' houses, and she's going to be mine again, in a few hours.

Somewhere during our makeout her top has ridden up and I can see the bottom of her breasts, I touch them without thinking. She smiles and leans down, kissing my neck.

"A few hours," she says and gets up, runs into the water.

_Bitch._

**.**

**.**

"I think I'm gonna go take a shower."

I laughed, but then she started to make her way toward the door.

She was _serious._ When the water started I stripped of my clothes and followed her in.

**.**

**.**

Trust me, I love the sex, more than I think a normal human should be allowed to love it, but I think this is maybe better. Her curled against my back, legs entwined, hair stringing with the other's.

"I can always tell when you're awake, you know," she said, eyes still closed, lips forming a grin. I sighed, bringing my hand to her back and rubbing it. She let out a deep breath.

"Can I ask you something, Fang?"

"Yeah," I said.

"How many girls have you been with? I mean, it doesn't really matter...that much. I just think I should know. I love you, and I just want to know...I want to make sure we're safe."

Caught me off guard a bit there, but she's unpredictable. And if I didn't answer she'd think I'd slept with a million.

"Eight," I admitted.

She opened her eyes. "_Eight?"_

"Um, yeah?"

She shook her head and threw it into the pillow. "Who?"

Jesus Christ.

"Well, I don't know. I was drunk a lot of the time...with one girl I was sober, I slept with one for a bet, and Lissa because I was pissed at you..."

A long silence followed. "Every time that you get pissed you can't just go off and get drunk, go off and sleep with someone, or this relationship isn't going to work, Fang," she said in a motherly tone. I rolled my eyes.

"None of them _mattered._ You're the only girl that I've been with that I love, okay? And, just in case you're wondering, you're the most beautiful, the hottest, and the best. Period. And I'm not going to go off and sleep with anyone. Jeez, what type of guy do you think I am?"

She opened an eye. "Um, you went off and slept with someone _last_ time," she reminded me.

"Max." I sighed. "Listen, I love you. That was only because I thought that you didn't love me, therefore my world was over."

She smiled. "You're pathetic. But it's cute."

I cringed. "_Cute?"_

She nodded. "Totally."

I was going to argue, defend my man-ness, but then she got this strange, worrying look in her eyes. I brushed strands of hair away from her face and moved her closer to me.

"What's wrong?"

She looked at me. "Did you use protection with them?"

I sighed. "I'm not stupid."

"That's not what I _asked," _she snapped.

"God, of _course_ I used protection."

She didn't look so sure. "I think we should get tested. I'm on the pill but we don't use a condom, and...," she said slowly.

I threw my head back. "You're worried about STD's?"

"It's normal to worry about that stuff, Fang."

"I think you're just pissed that I wasn't a virgin. But hey, I wasn't going to wait around forever."

She rolled her eyes. "I knew you weren't a virgin when I had sex with you, Fang, I was well aware. I just think it's best to be safe."

I looked at her. "Fine. But I'm clean. Bet you forty bucks."

She smiled. "We are _not_ betting on STD's. It's not a funny thing."

I shrugged. "Fine."

She rolled onto her side and propped her head up on one elbow to look at the clock. "We should get up and make food."

She began to get up, but I shoved her back into the bed. "No, _I_ should get up and cook. _You _should stay far, far away from the kitchen before you _kill _something."

She smiled and watched me as I dressed. I leaned over and kissed her cheek, and on my way out I called

"For the record, I am not _cute."_

* * *

_Me: The favor has to do with the ending of this story, but I need someone who has already read the original ending. _


	20. Chapter 20

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

It took me awhile, but I finally pushed away my opaqueness to see something so very obvious:

1) Fang is my best friend  
2) I realized that he's insanely hot and actually an amazing guy  
3) He's romantic  
4) He's sweet  
5) But he still manages to be Fang  
6) I fell in love with him

1) Fang is my best friend  
2) He still sees me as his best friend  
3) BUT HE THINKS I'M HOT  
4) And so he wants sex  
5) From me. Because he thinks I'm hot.  
6) Therefore, because he knows me enough to know I would never in a million years go for the whole "friends with benefits" shit, he pretends that he wants to be more than friends  
7) Even though he doesn't really. He wants to be my friend, and he wants sex  
8) He made a compromise with himself  
9) That's where we are now

I wrote that list in the goddamn journal that Ella bought me, slipped it underneath my pillow, dreamed of darkness.

The days went on like they normally did, but I took time to look in his eyes when he looked at me. They were never on me.

They were everywhere else.

He would catch my eye, give me a smile, come over and touch my cheek. I would smile back, he pulls me into his lap. He whispers, "Maximum," in my ear like his words are saying he loves me.

But he doesn't. Not like I love him.

I have to hold back tears.

I was so absorbed in myself, in Fang, in us together, in what we were becoming, in what I wanted us to be, that I didn't even notice that for a week, Ella and Iggy had been sitting on opposite ends of the couch. I noticed, but I didn't register that it was terribly wrong. They were inseparable. Everybody knew it. With her came him and vice versa. You rarely saw them without at least a finger on the other, like without contact they would shrivel up and die.

I talked to my best friend about this.

"Max, I'm sure it's nothing," Fang said. I paced around.

"No, I'm sure it's something," I insisted. "They're in love. They...there's something wrong. Something happened."

I was pulled down into his lap, arms around my waist.

"Let's just give them time."

I'm not the most patient person in the universe, I'll admit.

"But..."

"But...?" he asked, whispering into my neck, the moment becoming intimate and steamy, my breathing picking up. "They'll tell us when they want to. Let's focus on _us_..."

I leaned against his shoulder, giving him access to the rest of my neck, digging my nails into his knees.

"Fang?"

He detached himself from my neck to say, "Yeah?"

I sighed. "You are the best thing I have in my life."

I wanted him to know how much he meant to me.

He didn't say anything.

"I'm so...lost...without you. And I always miss you when we're not together. I want to be with you forever. And yet, I have doubts. It's so scary, and...I hate them. But you don't love me like I love you. It's not fair."

His grip loosened on me.

"To you, I'm still your best friend only. You just think I'm hot. But you...you want sex, and you want it from me, but because you think I'm hot, not because you want to be something more than friends."

We were still for awhile.

I finally said, whispered, "You're breaking my heart."

He didn't say a word.

I waited.

And waited.

After five minutes, he pushed me out of his lap.

"You," he spat, pointing a finger. "Are fucking insane."

I looked at him, trying not to cry.

"You're just too fucking stupid and too...fucking _pessimistic _to realize that hey! There might actually be something fucking _good _in your life. But NO! It has to be bad. I don't love you? Are you fucking serious, Maximum? You're fucking insane. So...fucking...insane."

Not the reaction I expected.

I wasn't really expecting anything. I didn't know what I expected him to do.

He walked out, and slammed the bedroom door behind him. A second later, he came back in.

"This is _my_ room. Get out."

I sat there, eyes welling with tears.

"Fang, I want to talk to you-"

"Well I don't wanna talk to you," he said. "Now get _out_."

I didn't move. I couldn't.

So, being Fang, with his goddamn muscles, he picked me up and dropped me into the hallway. Then slammed the door. A second later I heard him say, "Fucking stupid ass."

Fuck. Never heard him say it so many times in his life.

* * *

Ella was in her room, crying. Without a word, I hopped on her bed with her and we screamed into the mattress together.

But after awhile we figured we should find out maybe what the fuck was going on.

Her story was fist priority. She was crying harder.

"Iggy-Iggy-Iggy-"

If she wasn't crying so hard two seconds earlier I would've told her to hurry the fuck up, I didn't have all day.

I restrained myself.

"He-he cheated on me!" she finally choked out.

At first I just stared at her. Then it registered. I started flippin' out.

After my "How could he!" "I'm gonna kill that bastard!" "What the fudge!"s, ect. she hushed me.

"It gets worse!"

How could it? It seemed impossible.

"IT WAS WITH LISSA!"

It just got worse.

I stared at her, then ran downstairs into the kitchen, grabbed the first pointy thing I could find (which happened to be a spork-damn), then I went upstairs and I stabbed Iggy to death, showing him no mercy.

Okay, fine, I didn't. But I did in my head.

We just cried together. It wasn't nearly as exciting (or satisfying) but we needed it.

$&hello,biotch&$

I talked to my mom.

"I have an idea."

She glanced up from the stove, have her "here we go again" look, looked back.

"Okay, what."

"Ella and I should get our own place."

She ignored the stove and looked straight at me.

"Huh?"

"Well," I started. "It's hard to live in the same house as your boyfriends sometimes-"

"Fang and you broke up?"

My heart started hurting. So freaking embarrassing.

"Not...really," I said. "But Iggy an Ella did, and it's torture to have to see them every day when it's the last thing they'd want to do."

She nodded.

"And...something could potentially happen between Fang and I, and I don't want to have to be in the same house as him if we were to break up. It wouldn't let us cope."

She studied me. "And who decided to date their best friend?"

Argghh.

"I think it's perfectly reasonable for us to move out. We're adults."

She smiled. "Fine."

I smiled.

Then she said, "With your own money."

Smile drops.

Goddamn her.

* * *

**FANG POV:**

I hadn't seen Iggy in days. Which is pretty weird, considering he lives next door. In the next room.

So I went in, and he was lying on his freaking face.

I threw a shoe at his back and he flipped over.

"What the fuck, dude," I said, sitting on his desk. "Where've you been?"

He looked at the bed, touched it tenderly. I barfed mentally. "Here."

I looked at him.

"What is going on with Ella?"

He sighed, long, heavy.

"I cheated on Ella."

My look turned into a glare.

"_What_?"

"I know," he groaned. "It was a huge mistake, I don't know what I was thinking."

I waited, clenching my fists.

"Who?"

He flipped back over.

"Lissa."

What. The. Fuck.

There's a line. Cheating on an amazing girl is on one side. Cheating on an amazing girl with a horrific girl is completely different thing.

It goes from douche bag to an asshole that deserves to die.

I said, "This may seem weird to say, but you're blind, so I'm gonna explain this to you, dude. Max is a bit hotter than Ella."

Ella is super pretty, and yeah, she's hot, too, but okay, Max is more than a bit hotter than her. Which shows how hot Max is.

"And Ella is a million thousand times hotter and nicer than _Lissa_. You fucked up."

He said, "I know. I apologized so...many times...she's so hurt...I can't believe...I've lost her..."

When he flipped over his cheeks were wet.

I wanted to tell him to stop being a pussy, but there was something terrible about that: the moisture on his cheeks.

I said, "Well Max thinks I'm using her for sex."

He popped up. "What?"

I nodded. "I know. She's so fucking insane."

He smiled. "But you're not...are you?"

"God, no!" I said. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

Be shrugged.

"I'm not," I said. "I'm not using her for anything. She wants sex, too. It's not like...it's not..."

"I get it. You're in love."

I looked at him. "So are you."

He nodded.

"I get what you mean, though, about the sex. With Ella, it's because I loved her. With Lissa...it was because I love Ella. Does that make sense? I was pissed her, so I...I wanted to prove to her...and myself...that..."

I sighed. "I'm gonna take this one at a time. First, you and Ella had sex?"

He looked away, then his mouth twisted up at the memory.

"Yeah."

"And...?" I prompted.

"Best thing ever."

I nodded.

"Okay, second: Lissa. When?"

He groaned. "Two weeks ago. At a party, she was talking about you, about Max, and she said that I was almost as sexy as you, which isn't very flattering, but I knew it would piss off Ella. We know how our girls hate that girl."

Small smile.

Our girls.

Not anymore.

He said, "Sorry, but I don't really want to talk to talk about this anymore. What happened with you and Max?"

Sigh.

"She randomly started saying that I wasn't in love with her like she was with me, that I still thought of us as friends but I wanted to get into her pants."

"What did _you _say?"

"I said that she was fucking insane."

He smiled. "Seriously?"

I said, "Yeah."

"Aren't you supposed to say something sweet and romantic, like, 'I love you so much, all I see is you, when I close my eyes I see you, the skies remind me of your eyes-'"

"Her eyes are brown, dumbass," I laughed.

He said, in the same dreamy voice from before, "Your eyes remind me of dog shit-"

He started laughing, doubling over, and I laughed with him.

"We're so fucked up," he said between laughs. I said that I knew, and we laughed and laughed and laughed, trying to cover the pain.

**MAX POV:**

Fang and I haven't talked for a week. He hasn't looked at me for a week. So fucking immature.

"Fang," I said, grabbing him by his bicep. "You can't just ignore me."

He smirked. "Really."

I scoffed. "Don't be a dumb ass. You can't act like nothing went on between us. It won't solve anything."

He stared right in my eyes. "I don't _want_ to solve this between us, Max."

I stared at him, the knife that he just stabbed into my heart was wedged in too good to be pulled out.

"I actually like being single." He knew he was stinging me as he said, "All this commitment crap is exhausting."

I said, "Good to be free, huh? Fuck anyone you like?"

He breathed in deeply.

"And you'll probably go off and fuck Lissa, soon as she gets you alone. Because she's hot. But I've known you since birth. But go ahead. Be single. Ignore me. I'M insane? Are you fucking kidding me? Sure, maybe I'm insane. But at least I have a fucking heart."

Sadly, I meant every word.

He looked at the wall next to me, clenched his fists, and then met my eyes again.

"She's...hot. So yeah, maybe. But I can't ever love her."

There was an unspoken "but" at the end of his sentence.

"But you don't love me, either," I whispered and he just looked at me. He didn't agree, didn't object. Tears were spilling down my cheeks. I hated how he could cause me so much pain.

"Max," he said softly. "Max, I-"

I couldn't stand to hear it. I kissed him quickly before walking into the kitchen.

My mom seemed to be waiting for me, and when she saw I was crying she automatically came up and wrapped her arms around me, telling me that it was okay.

Then she said, "Okay, you and Ella can move out. But _both_ of you. I don't want you guys ever to be alone."

I hugged her that much tighter.


	21. Chapter 21

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**ELLA POV:**

"I will not live here if I wake up every morning to barf colored walls," was the first thing Max said when we moved into the new place. That's what she does, though she won't admit it, with everybody but Fang, who she pours her heart out to. She pretends around the pain.

"Paint job?" I questioned, dropping a heavy box inside and then following her out for more.

She grinned at me, dropping a box.

"Oh hell yes."

**MAX POV:**

After two weeks the kill-me-now colors of the apartment were gone, replaced with blues, soft, black, grays. At one point I thought about saying, "Fuck it" and painting the whole thing rainbow, but I was thinking mom might take back her generosity if I did so.

Another week after that we were settled and getting used to steady routine.

During the whole moving into a new place process, I was overly stressed. I knew that it was supposed to be expected, branching out or whatever, but I was overwhelmed. The house was a mess for a month as we got used to moving our things and putting them away, our routines, our neighbors, and I spent a lot of my time in the cute little coffee shop downstairs. Our apartment was constructed more like a hotel than what it was, with beautiful halls and workers. It wasn't exactly cheap, it was actually very pricey, but totally worth it.

Anyway, at the coffee shop I met a guy named Ethan.

He was sitting at the table next to mine, typing on his laptop frantically. His fingers were moving across the keys at an inhuman speed, but he was leaned casually back against his seat, yawning, and even looking around. I wondered how he did it, appeared nonchalant and uninterested and yet typed so fast. I peaked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of his essay, and it was very well written, extremely intricate and professional.

He glanced at me.

"You're new," he said, stopping his typing and looking at me, turning in his seat and leaning toward me. "Just move here?"

Okay, fine, so he's really attractive. But it's not like I really noticed the way that his eyes gave the ocean a run for its money and how dirty blond hair swept perfectly above the eyes like a teen heartthrob or the way that when he smiled, there was the most adorable dimple that decided to appear in his cheek.

I said, "Yeah, for about two months. Do you live in this building?"

He nodded slightly, taking a sip of his coffee and closing the screen of his laptop.

"Fourth floor," he said.

"Me too."

His mouth twisted to the side, studying me. "Nineteen-ish? Who'd you move with? A boyfriend?"

Nope. Single for three months. Another thing about moving out that was expected was the missing Fang deal. Even when we were fighting his presence was there, beauty passing in the halls or sitting on the porch outside, his breath when he passed, his scent lingering in the family room. He wasn't here now, and it helped. I would never get over him if I was constantly reminded of him, and being...away from him for awhile was reminding me that he didn't have to be my entire world.

But I think I wanted him to be.

"No boyfriend," I said. "My sister. I just graduated."

He nodded. "Where are you going for college?" he asked.

I let out a sigh. "Nowhere for the time being. I got accepted to a few but haven't gone. I'm not ready. I feel like if I was to go now, sure, I'd be in college, but I'd probably fail."

He stared at me for awhile, long enough to make it hard for me to breathe, and then said, "I'm Ethan."

"Max."

He smiled, showing rows of teeth on toothpaste commercials, then said, "Max. Sit with me."

I did.

* * *

Ethan and I went to the coffee shop at the exact same time, 7:50, every morning of the weekdays, and sit at the same table, drink the same drink. His first class started at 9:00, and so did my work, so we departed at the same time, too. We talked about whatever we wanted to, and then the flirting began to mix into our casual conversation. He would kick me underneath the table, I would hit him on the chest, he'd trap it there. I'd smile and he'd let it go, we'd continue.

I liked him a lot.

I liked his eyes, his hair, his smile, the way he laughed, the way he touched my hand, the jolt of electricity that was sent through me when he did, and the way he made me forget that Fang didn't love me. The way that he made me so fucking _happy._

* * *

I went to dinner with my family a few weeks after Ethan and I met, and I was excited, I suppose. The family had come to visit, so I didn't miss them too terribly, but you know what's funny? Fang never came. Not once.

At dinner, even with Fang sitting across from me, Ethan was all that I could think about. How he was smart, how effortless he appeared, how he understood the abnormal dynamics of my personality, of my mannerisms. How he laughed, how I laughed, and how he skipped his first four classes the first day we met so that he could spend time with me.

I was in a daze.

Fang kicked me under the table, and fury shot through me unexpectedly. Why did I get mad?

"What?" I snapped harshly, and his eyes widened in surprise.

E very body stared at me, and I hushed an apology before gulping down my whole glass of pomegranate juice.

My mom cleared her throat. "So, Fang, how's college?"

_College?_

Jesus, it hadn't been _that_ long since we'd moved out, had it?

"Good," he said, staring at my left shoulder. "Hard, but good."

"And your dorm?" she continued.

"You moved out?" I blurted. What? How could he move out? He's lived here forever!

He nodded at me. "With Iggy."

It was then that I finally noticed that we grew up.

* * *

After dinner, I was sitting on the porch swing, staring at the night. It actually looked different here than where Ella and I lived. This was more clear, where our sky was penetrated by lights and fog. It felt different, too. This was my home, the feeling was still there somewhere, and there felt temporary. The scent was different, here was homey and familiar, there was new and exciting. I wouldn't choose which one I liked better, but this felt good at the moment.

My phone buzzed, a text from Ethan appeared on the screen.

**Party tonight, my room. Come?**

God, did I want to. I didn't want to be here, with Fang. I wanted to forget us.

_I'm at dinner with my family. Sorry. Next time?_

**It's gonna end around 3. I'm sure you can still make it.**

_I'll ask my sister if she wants to. We're a package deal. K?_

**I hope you can go :)**

"Go where?"

I almost fell off of the swing.

"None of your business," I snapped as weight sunk into the seat next to me and Fang appeared, almost as black as the night. He was looking at me, a smirk trapped in the straight line of his mouth.

I leaned back against the seat and slipped my phone into my pocket, closing the message.

"College, huh?" I asked. "You never told me about going to _college._ Never struck me as the type."

"Well I wasn't planning to go. I was planning to be with you."

Ethan was forgotten, just like that.

"Oh," I said softly. "Well."

"Yeah," he said, equally as light, like I'd made any sense at all. "Anyway, how's living by yourself?"

"Great, actually. It would be too hard to live here, after..."

He nodded. "Yeah. I'm glad you left."

Aaaaaaaannnndd Ethan was remembered again.

"Let's not talk about us," I suggested. "Let's talk about us...as friends. What's been going on?"

But really, I knew we weren't best friends anymore.

"Nothing much," he answered, nonetheless. "College is hard."

"What are you studying?"

He sighed. "I'm going to Juilliard."

"In _New York_?"

He nodded, looking at me. Fang, god, he was an amazing guitarist and singer, but I never thought that he was so serious about making a future in the arts. I didn't know that he applied. I didn't know it was an option.

"So you flew out here?"

He shrugged. "I missed everybody, and we're on Thanksgiving break anyway."

I wondered if he missed me, but I couldn't ask such a thing.

"You need to cut your hair," I said instead.

He smirked. "You don't like my hair?"

"It's too long," I said, instead of _I fucking love your hair. It's devilishly perfect, and I want to pull on it, I want to weave my fingers into it, it makes you look even more sexy._

"You've always loved my hair!" Fang defended.

I turned in my seat and touched the ends of it. "Yeah, but you need to cut it. Just a bit."

Instead of answering, he leaned into my touch like a puppy and I wove my fingers further into the silk, holding his face in my hands. He leaned further until I was cradling his head against my chest, and he was a child again. He breathed my scent in and I rested my cheek against the top of his head as his arms slipped around my body and held me close to his. My palms were against his neck, and his cheek was on my breastbone. I realized that the porch, the sky, the chocolate chip cookies...that's not what was home. This was home. His body with mine was home. His cheek on my skin was home. Our lips on each other was home.

Fang was home, and home slipped right through my fingers.

"Oh, my god," he whispered into my skin. "I miss you so much."

I felt wetness on my neck, and I gasped in a quick air of breath, yanking his head up so that I could be sure.

I broke down with him, and we drowned in the unexplainable feelings, that we didn't have the strength to overcome what we were going through. The obstacle was the superior, and we weren't strong enough.


	22. Chapter 22

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

_Sorry, but I can't come to the party tonight._

**My heart is breaking. Into a million pieces. One by one. Slow, painful breaks.**

_Dork. Man up :P be a big boy._

**Oh Max, believe me, I am.**

_Please spare me._

**You know you want to check and make sure**

_Goodnight, perv._

**Sweet dreams, darling.**

It would feel wrong to hang out with Ethan after witnessing the saddest thing I'd ever seen, with the scent of Fang lingering on my skin and his body's warmth still on mine. Ella and Iggy didn't speak, but he was staring intently at her the entire time. As soon as we got home, Ella bursted into her room, and I let her be.

Then I sat curled around a cup of coffee waiting for Fang to call. A call never came.

* * *

"You look...lovely."

I rolled my eyes. "Why thanks."

Ethan settled into the chair across from mine with a smirk on his mouth. "I take it dinner with the family didn't go so well?"

I felt like a bitch, but I said it anyway. "My ex...he moved to New York when I moved here. I hated him for awhile, but we made up. I've never seen him cry...it was the saddest thing..."

He rose an eyebrow, a sliver of panic in his oceanic eyes. "So you're taken now?"

I shook my head. "We're not together. But...we don't hate each other anymore."

"You're not over him," he stated, but it wasn't accusatory.

I looked at him. Was I that lucid?

"Is it possible to be over someone but still love them?" I asked.

He stirred his coffee. "I think that's the point."

I processed that, then decided to think about it after a different time. "How was the party?"

He smirked, remembering something, then shrugged.

"Did you..." He's in college. How do I ask him if he had sex with anybody? Because I knew he did, but I couldn't just...ask that. "Get lucky?" I tried.

He grinned at me, sipping his coffee. "You're cute," he said, in a _and also a child_ kind of way. "And...no. I didn't want to hook up with anybody. I'm pretty serious about this one girl."

I wasn't prepared for the way that my heart sank. I'd thought he was interested in me. Don't make assumptions. Life lesson.

"Oh." I gulped down my disappointment. "Awesome."

Which meant _Oh. That sucks...hard._

He smiled that _you stupid ass _smile and said, "Don't be stupid, Maximum. I'm serious about_you_."

Without any warning (or oxygen flowing to my brain, apparently), I leaned over to him, pulled his face to mine with both of my hands, and smashed my mouth against him. He held my arms gently (because it's really freaking hard to kiss across a coffee table), and I tangled my fingers in his hair. I felt his eyelashes on my cheeks, the candy of his mouth, and it wasn't until after I pulled away to inhale that I realized he'd called me Maximum.

Only Fang calls me Maximum.

**Fang's Point of View:**

I was doing fine in New York until I came home from the family gathering. Then every brunette in my building, every brown eyed girl in my class, every nice ass at the park, and every pair of long legs became Maximum Ride. Just like that—and I couldn't escape her. I was drowning in missing her. I was drowning in regret. And she was thousands of miles away.

Iggy was in an even more severe state.

"...and she didn't even _look _at me. Not _once!_ She didn't say hi, or bye, or hey, igs, how have you been without me? Oh, miserable? Well, that sucks hard! Just...nothing."

"Well," I said, "you broke her heart."

His head whipped around, fuming, and glared at me. "Shut the fuck up, Fang. At least I _loved her_. At least I wasn't _faking it_!"

I stepped toward him. "Faking it? Are you fucking _serious_! I've loved her since the _fifth grade_!"

He moved closer. "You used her as your goddamn toy while she fell in _love _with you. And then, when you're done, _you _get to decide that you just don't love her anymore? You are disgusting. For doing that to anybody. She's my fucking _sister._"

My fists knocked with his jaw and he jumped back, holding it. "I've always loved her," I growled. "I always _will._"

He clenched and unclenched his fists, wondering whether to hit me and get his ass kicked, or listen to me.

"Well then you should have told her, instead of letting her leave, letting her go. It's..._god dammit_ it's your _fault._ You have to stop acting like she's the one who hurt you. You just...you need to realize that you have to work for what you want. So do I."

Fuck, I _hate_ being wrong.

I let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry I punched you in the face," I said. I felt bad for punching the blind kid.

He stared at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"I'm sorry that we lost them."

* * *

There were annoying knocks on the door that interrupted me from my beauty sleep. I need energy to get my hair up and looking like it does, you know. Just kidding. I'm not a pussy that worries about that stuff.

Anyway, back to the knocking.

I opened it to see a tall blonde, wearing tight, ripped black jeans, a midriff shirt, icy blue eyes, dark makeup, and a small stud lip ring. She was my type—hot, pretty, badass, tallish.

But then she pushed her way inside of my dorm.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked, staring at her as she went to the couch.

"Shut the door!" she shrieked.

I did, and Iggy came out of his room, groggy looking. I went to the couch with her and sat down, handing her an abandoned cup of coffee. It was probably cold, but when you run into my dorm without explanation, it's not like I'm going to use _my _time to make you something fresh.

She was crying.

"What's wrong?" I asked in my most sensitive voice, which probably wasn't sensitive at all.

She shook and grabbed my arm, snuggling into my chest. I didn't put my arms around her. I didn't know her name. Iggy locked the door and rubbed his eyes.

"Think she's psycho? Should we send her back to the ward?" he asked, and she rose enough to flip him off.

Slowly, I moved her off of me—she reached for me as I went, and then I went to Iggy.

"I think," I said lowly, "that somebody is chasing her."

He looked at me.

"I need coffee. I don't even know what you're saying. I'm just pretending."

I rolled my eyes at him as he dragged himself to the kitchen. I sat with the girl, studying her. She wasn't crying, but shaking.

"Hey," I said soothingly. "You're wet. Do you want clothes?"

She looked at me.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Um, who are _you?_ I wasn't the one who barged into _your _dorm unannounced."

She pulled her knees up to her chest and pulled a blanket up around her shoulders.

"I'm Em." I rose my eyebrows. "As in _Emily_."

I scoffed. "I'm not a dumbass. I want to know what you're doing here."

She glanced at the door. "My boyfriend...well, my ex...he's...I don't know. I just felt threatened...kind of..."

"Did he hurt you?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I think he may have, though, if I didn't come here. Sorry for barging in."

I leaned back and studied her.

"You're not going to steal any of our shit right?"

She shook her head.

"Can I trust you?"

She rolled her eyes. "This isn't a secret mission."

"God, let a kid have an imagination," I said. "But seriously-"

"You can trust me, jeez, okay?"

I licked my lips and she watched the motion.

"Um, okay, well you can sleep on the couch."

She nodded. "Cool, I'll be gone in the morning."

I eyed her. "No, why don't you...stay for breakfast, okay? Just in case."

Em sighed, her shoulders shook.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Nick."

* * *

She moaned, a delicious sound that reminded me of Max.

"God, and he's _blind_?"

I nodded with Iggy. During the night her blonde hair had gone crazy, so she tied it back. Her eyes had bags under them, and there were lines on her flat stomach from where the blankets had imprinted on her skin. Her jeans hung low on her hips.

"Does your boyfriend go here?" I asked, eating some blind guy food.

"No," she answered. "He's not smart...or talented enough. And he's my ex. Just me."

I nodded slowly. "Cool. But do you think he's here, now?"

She thought about this for a second. "Maybe. Probably. He actually _is _psycho." She shot a glance at Iggy.

"Well...maybe I should walk you to your classes. You know, just in case...to protect you."

She giggled, cute.

"Yeah, sure."

A little later I was inside of her dorm, as she rummaged through her closet for clothes. I had a nice time watching her ass as she did so, and watching the rest of the room when she turned around. It was simple, cute, girly.

Whatever. That's what it was.

"Nick. It doesn't suit you."

I looked at her. "Hm?"

'The name," she explained, coming closer, sitting with me on the bed. She had a top and shorts in her hand, and she let her hair go. "Nick. No. You're more of a bad boy. Like...I don't know. Not Nick. Do you have a nickname?"

"Yeah," I said. "Fang."

She tried it out. "Fang. FFAAAAAANNNNGGGGG. Hm. Okay. Well, Fang, I'm going to shower. Don't 'steal any of my shit.'"

She stood and made her way to the bathroom.

When she got out, she looked hotter than before. An old tee shirt cut so it hung off of her shoulder, reminding me of the outfit Max wore the first night I kissed her, and shorts, flip flops. Dark makeup, bright smile. She played with the lip ring on her mouth, and I had the sudden urge to tug on it with my teeth. Her hair was straight, stringing around her face, lip gloss.

Interesting babe. Girly, gothy, bad ass.

"So you think you can protect me, huh?" she asked as she walked out of the door.

"Um, I have the most amazing biceps in the universe," I said.

She smirked. "Really. What liar told you _that_?"

"My girlfriend," I said, and her face fell. "Well, my ex," I explained.

"Hm. So tell me about this."

I sighed. "I went to college, she moved with her sister. We had an argument before."

She looked at me. "If you loved her, you would have stayed."

I know.

"I do," I said. "But...I don't know. Anyway, back to my biceps. Yes, I am going to protect you."

"_Why_?"

I smirked. "Because you came into my dorm at three a.m. That makes you my property."

I slung my arm over her shoulders and she shrugged it off, then began to walk backward to talk to me, smirking.

"Yeah? Well I can take care of myself," she said just as she was about to run into a pole. I grabbed her under the ribs and pulled her away.

"Oh, the irony," I said.

"Shut up."

She pushed me away and walked beside me again.

"_Faaaaaaaaaaaa. . _."

I looked at her.

"Where'd you get the name?" she asked.

"I bit my best friend when we were eight and she bled. Called me Fang ever since."

"You bit _Iggy_? Homo alert."

"No, not Iggy," I said. "And even if it was, I was _eight._"

"So whose your best friend?" she asked.

"My ex," I said.

"Jeez. Ruined your friendship, huh."

She was walking beside me, and I watched a guy check her out.

"Well we made up last weekend. We're friends now."

"'Cept you still love her," she said.

I brought my arm around her shoulders again and she didn't move away.

"Yeah. As a friend."

The look that she gave me said _liar, liar, pants on fire._

I rolled my eyes and drew her closer.

**Max Point of View:**

"I miss Iggy."

FINALLY SHE ADMITS IT!

"Who?" Ethan asked from the kitchen.

Ella just looked at me. "I miss him so much."

"He slept with Lissa," I reminded her.

She nodded. "So did Fang," she kindly reminded back.

I made a gagging sound. "You know, she is the cause of so many of our troubles. We shall plan to murder her."

"We shall," Ella agreed.

I chewed my lip and checked out Ethan's butt before turning back to Ella. "Maybe just payback."

She let out a deep breath. "I say murder."

"Does she have a boyfriend?" I asked.

Ella shrugged. "Even if she did, we couldn't do anything. You're with Ethan."

"Yeah, but _you_ could sleep with him."

She looked at me. "No."

"But she's such a bitch!"

"I can pretend to hook up with him, but there is no way..."

I rolled my eyes.

"Max, I'm serious, though, about Iggy. I want him back."

"_Why?_ He hurt you so bad!"

Ella chewed her lip. "I don't know. I just love him so much more than I hate him."

It made sense, but still.

"Then get him back," I said. You know me, master of relationships. Boyfriend count: 2 ½. The ½ is Sam, because he was such a jerk.

"How?"

The mother of all questions.

"He's in love with you, El," I said. "Just take a trip to New York."

"Can you come with me?" she asked.

I looked at Ethan as he moved pancakes onto two plates. "I...I can't, Ella. I want to, but there would be awkwardness between me and Fang."

She pouted.

"Breakfast, dears," Ethan said in a corny proper voice and slid next to me on the couch. He put my plate in my lap and his on his own, and began to eat. I leaned over and tucked my head into his shoulder. He looked at me weird, but put his hand on my thigh and kissed the crown of my head despite it.

Ella looked at us longingly.

"See!" she exclaimed, getting to her feet. "That's what I want! That's what I miss! I'm going to buy a ticket to New York!"

She ran out the door.

"You could've done it online," I mumbled. Ethan put our plates on the table and I kissed his neck, then his jaw.

"Max, want to tell me the truth?"

I looked up at him. "Sure."

"Is my hair dumb?"

I laughed and got onto my knees, running my fingers through his hair. I kissed it, then his forehead, and trailed them down to his mouth. I bit his bottom lip.

"Your hair is just _gorgeous_." Blonde hair, shortish, cute.

He smiled at me and leaned in for his kiss.

In my mind, the blonde, cute hair, turned into black, silky strands.

They turned back just as fast, and he lowered me onto my back. I locked my ankles around the back of his calves and pulled him closer, moving our mouth, opening mine to invite his tongue inside. His hands roamed down my body until they reached the end of my shirt but I moved his off of his body first. He was more muscular than Fang, but Fang's body was still the greatest, with long limbs and not too much—

Bad, bad. Don't compare boyfriend with past boyfriend. Abort, abort.

My hands were on his hips as he lifted my shirt over my head, and electricity ran through me as he laid himself over me, chests against each other. He tasted of syrup and I was between his legs, as my hands slid around and touched his belt buckle as he kissed down my neck. My collarbone, then my breastbone, and down between my breasts. He was at my navel, and his tongue moved around my bellybutton before descending lower—

"I forgot you could buy tickets online."

Then, "..!"

Sigh.


	23. Chapter 23

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**FANG POV:**

I didn't end up hooking up with Em.

I kind of wanted to, but then I would feel guilty, because when I closed my eyes, it wasn't her that I saw.

I'm turning into a girl. Dear god.

Anyway, we hung out a few times, and then I kissed her. I told her that I didn't know what I was thinking (which was partially true, I was slightly drunk) and that I didn't really want a relationship. She nodded, and asked if there was something wrong with her. Which sucks.

"No, no," I said. "It's not you, Emily. I'm just..."

She rolled her eyes. "Still in love with your ex. Yeah, okay. But then why have you been leading me on all this time? God damn it."

"I haven't been _trying_ to lead you on. I was just...I don't know, I'm trying to get over her, okay? It just didn't work."

"You sound like a girl," she said.

Sadly, I said, "Yeah, I know."

She kissed me quickly, stood, grabbed a beer, and left my dorm. I never saw her again after that.

It was interesting.

Oh, yeah, and Ella came to visit Iggy.

I sat there like a lost puppy as they sat on the couch and talked, wondering why Max didn't come. Of COURSE she didn't! She hates me! Whoop de freaking do! I went and got an orange juice, and when I made my way back to my bedroom, they were making out, Ella straddling him, his hands on her hips. Then they stood, and he carried her into his bedroom, slammed the door shut with his foot.

I gagged.

I decided to text Max. It was weird—I hadn't done it since the break up, but I wanted to talk to her. Maybe about nothing. I just wanted her to realize that I was still here.

**Hey, Maximum.**

She didn't reply. I sat there and stared at it for so long.

Until four hours later.

_Fang! Sorry, I haven't had my phone! Hey._

**Hey, it's okay.**

_Is Ella there?_

**Well, she's in bed with Iggy, not _here_, but yeah.**

_Ick. But I take it they made up?_

**Yeah. Why aren't _you_ here?**

_I just thought it would be awkward._

**Well I was hoping that you would visit sometime.**

_I'm sorry, I just...I don't know. It would be too weird._

**I thought we were friends now**

_We are, but it's not like I can just...forget...you know._

**I miss you, Max, goddammit.**

Ten minutes later, she called me. I nervously picked up the phone, and held it to my ear.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey."

"What's up?"

"Fang, I miss you too. A lot. More than I should. But..."

"But...?" I prompted.

"We need a break from each other."

I waited.

"Max, I love you. I'm so sorry that you didn't see that, and that I didn't tell you when you asked. I'm so sorry."

She had begun to cry. Tears leaked through the phone.

"Oh, my god, I love you, too. I always have. I can't though, Fang."

"Can't _what_?"

"Be with you!" I gulped. "You are in New York, going to the greatest performing arts college in the world, and I'm here with Ella, and I don't even know what I'm doing..."

"Max," I breathed. "Max, you know I would give it all up to be with you. You have to want to be with me, too."

Several moments passed with just her sobs through the phone. I wanted to hold her, but she was so far away.

"Fang, I can't. I'm so sorry."

I didn't talk to her again for three months.

**MAX POV:**

I was sick to my stomach the day that Ethan and I broke up. It was almost my birthday, and he gave me a necklace before because the next day I was to visit with my family for the occasion. It was beautiful, simple, a diamond on a chain around my neck.

"Thank you," I told him, leaning over and kissing his mouth. He smiled against my lips but pushed me back. I fastened it around my neck and touched it with my finger.

Then my phone rang. It was Iggy.

**_Don't mean to be a bitch, but Fang is miserable. Just to let you know. Maybe you should consider talking to him when we go to dinner. Anyway, Happy birthday, baby sis (:_**

It was a mood killer, and my heart sank to my stomach.

Fang.

That's all it took. One word, and the necklace on my breastbone felt too heavy, and I was being bathed in guilt. But why?

Because Fang was who I was in love with. He's always been the one.

"What's wrong, babe?" Ethan asked, slipping his hands around my waist.

Without thinking, I reached behind me and unclasped his necklace, then turned around and put it in his palm, curling his fingers around it. He looked at me, blue eyes so confused that it almost made me change my mind.

"Ethan, I don't feel right. I feel bad, being with you. You're so perfect, but I won't be able to ever be in love with you, I'm so afraid. I'm just hurting you."

He just stared at me.

"I'm already in love with you," he whispered.

Tears filled my eyes and I wrapped my arms around him. He didn't return the embrace, but I cried into his neck all the same.

"I'm so sorry," I cried.

"Max..." I looked up into his eyes. They read _how could you?_

"I'm already...I love _him._ I always will."

We'd talked about Fang on a few occasions.

"It took you seven months of being with me to realize that?"

I sucked in a breath.

"I knew it all along. I just didn't want it to be true."

He gave me a disgusted look, then picked up the few things that he had left here, and walked out of my life.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered to the empty room.

**Fang Pov:**

So many months of missing her, then here she was again, right across the table, eating salad. Everybody was talking, Ella and Iggy were flirting, Jeb was talking with Ms. Martinez. The kids were at a perfect peacefulness, exactly how it should have been. And then there was me, watching Max.

"So when are you going to invite that boyfriend of yours to visit, Max?" Valencia asked across the table.

I finally fucking got it.

The glass that I was holding in my hand dropped onto the table with a loud clang. There was nothing inside of it, but the sound was enough to make the room go silent and stare at me.

"Sorry," I mumbled, and I got up and left the room without a look in her direction.

_Everything made sense. She has a boyfriend. You have truly lost her._

I wished to crawl into a hole and die, but I settled for the porch. It was raining, being December, and I watched each drop. Each a mistake.

Not telling her I loved her enough. Flirting with Lissa. Ignoring her when I was angry. Sleeping with Lissa. Getting wasted. Not complimenting her. Not holding her close enough. Not kissing her enough. Not being who she needed. Moving to New York.

"Fang."

Letting her leave. Telling her that I didn't want her. Pushing her around. Calling her names. Having sex with other girls. Throwing her into a wall when we were eight. Touching her breasts. Ignoring her calls. Letting them go to voicemail.

"Fang."

Crying in front of her. Not holding her hand. Looking at Lissa. Beating up Sam. Shoving my tongue down her throat. Making a joke about things that were important to her. Saying that I loved her too soon. Making assumptions. Not talking to her for a week.

"Fang."

Being a douche bag. Being a girl. Kissing Lissa. Not letting her go to Sam's party. Not visiting her. Being overprotective. Being annoying—

"FANG, goddammit!"

I spun around, and there she was, soaking wet, makeup running down her cheeks. I turned back around and stared at the drops again as they got caught on my eyelashes. I could feel her watching me, and then she sat next to me on the porch and curled into me. Her hands were around my waist and she leaned against my shoulder.

"I broke up with him awhile ago. We're not together."

I sucked in a deep breath. _Plop, plop, plop._

"Valencia knew. He was obviously important to you."

She sighed. "No, she just called in the morning, he answered, I wasn't going to _lie..._"

The morning.

"Oh, fantastic," I said, and she looked up at me.

"Give me a fucking _break._ We're broken up. I can date whoever I want."

The truth hurts.

"Then stop _talking _to me and acting like everything is fine, okay?"

She glared at me. "I _never _told you that we were fine."

I let my face fall into my hands and I groaned.

We sat in silence apart from the plopping of the rain against the pavement.

I _love_ her. That's the bottom line. No matter what, I love her.

"Aren't you the slightest bit curious about _why_ we broke up?"

"I _know_ why we broke up," I said. "You thought I didn't love you and I didn't deny it. I was there."

She rolled her eyes and clutched onto me tighter. I wrapped myself around her, because it felt like heaven to have her in my arms.

"Stupid, I was talking about me and my ex."

"Oh. Well no, and I don't really care."

She looked at me.

"Why did you guys break up?" I asked.

She threaded her fingers in my hair and pulled my face down, and just before our lips met she whispered, "Because I'm in love with _you._"


	24. Chapter 24

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

"But you have to go to Julliard. It's such a prestigious school."

"Say prestigious again. You're lips look amazing when you do."

I took that time to slap his knee, but it was dark, so I hit his stomach. He grabbed my hand and pressed it flat against his chest, so I could feel his heart beating. I curled my fingers into his tee shirt and pulled him in for the tiniest kiss and then released him and leaned back into the grass. His fingers were splayed across my midriff.

"I'm not going to college right now, so..."

"You could go to a school in New York."

I nodded. "Yeah. And Iggy says he wants to move with Ella over at our place."

Fang propped himself up onto one elbow to look at me, stroking a finger around my face gently. God, he had changed. Not since I last saw him, so much, but since we were kids. He wasn't that pain in the ass that woke me up in the mornings by spraying me with water anymore. Now he was sweet and nice and just...perfect. And I got to hold him in my arms.

"Hey, Max," he said slowly, looking at me from the side and then turning to look me straight in the eye. He reached out and stroked a finger around my face and over my lips, watching his own finger then. Finally he met my eyes again.

"What?" my voice trembled underneath his gaze.

"I need to tell you something."

Me being me, I decided to blurt, "You're a vampire?"

He stared at me. "You're really fucking stupid." I glared at him but gave a soft, "sorry." "Okay," he continued, "anyway. Yeah. I need to tell you something."

His fingertips were on my eyebrows, smoothing them. I said, "Okay, what do you need to tell me?"

Fang leaned forward and kissed my forehead softly, then folded me into his arms so that I couldn't see his face, only the black of his tee shirt. I could feel his heart beating and he began whispering to me.

"I'm an asshole," he whispered. "And sometimes I treat you like shit, and I'm not considerate of how you feel, and I know that whole deal with Lissa...even though I really don't care about her...and I'm confusing as hell and I wasn't a good boyfriend. But Max, I love you. God, do I love you. With my life. With everything. It's fucking insane, and I feel like a pussy, but you are everything to me. And I'm going to treat you like a goddess. Or try to. That's what you deserve."

I pulled away to look into his eyes and cupped his jaw, bringing his mouth down to mine. Our lips met in a fiery kiss, beautiful and hot, and I pulled away.

"I love you." Another kiss. "And I adore you." Kiss. "And I can't wait to wake up next to you every morning." Kiss. "And I missed you. So fucking much. Don't ever leave me."

He kissed my jaw, my cheek, my nose, my forehead, and they lingered above my lips. "Never."

* * *

The sex was amazing. It wasn't just hot and sexy (well, it was...) but it was everything that had happened. It was anger, pain, love, forgiveness.

It said, "I'll never let you go."

It wasn't sex. It was making love.

"Holy shit, Max," he panted out from beside me, falling onto his back. I propped myself onto one elbow and smiled down at him, then leaned down and kissed across his nipples. His heart was speeding. I laid my head on his chest in a place of calm and peace and satisfaction.

"Are you ready to leave tomorrow?" he asked, drawing me in.

"Yeah," I said. "You're coming with me to get my stuff, right?"

"Of course," he said. It didn't occur to me at all the possibility that Ethan could be there. I was wrapped up in my own life. And Fang. And his kisses. And below his belt. And-

Anyway.

I was trying to open my door, fumbling with my keys. Fang's hands were low on my hips, and his lips were eating at my neck, leaving hot, wet kisses there, marking me. I couldn't concentrate on the keys. My toes were curling and my eyes kept rolling to the back of my head. I put my hands over his and brought them away so I could concentrate on the task at hand, but they were only placed right back there, drawing me back. He licked up the column of my neck and along my collarbone, then up to nibble on my ear.

"Hey, Maximum."

Fang stopped. I turned. There was Ethan, staring.

"Oh, um, hey," I said, and Fang pulled me in closer. "How are you?"

"Fucking _dandy_," he sneered, looking Fang up and down, and then he walked away. Fang's fingertips pressed into my skin. I rolled my eyes and entered the room. Fang was close behind, and after he closed the door he turned to me.

"He called you Maximum," he stated.

"Yeah, so?" He shrugged but his eyes bore into me. "What, Fang?"

"Only _I _call you Maximum. So that was your ex, eh?"

I threw my keys into a nearby bowl and went up behind him, crossing my arms over my chest. He didn't turn back around. "My _ex. _Fang." He didn't turn, and I slid my hands around his waist, then kissed his back. He was still long and lean, but there was more muscle on him now. My hands inched up his stomach underneath his tee shirt.

"Fang," I said. "Fang, I belong to you. I always have."

He let out a sigh, and then in one quick motion he had turned around and pulled me up into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his hips to keep from falling and he walked us over to the sofa. He sat down and I was in his lap, my arms loosely hanging around his neck. His eyes were twinkling.

"You're beautiful," he said. "And perfect. And I love you. And you're mine. I'm yours."

I rose an eyebrow. "I know."

"No no no," he said, pulling me closer. "You don't know that though. And it's really fucking irritating."

I kissed his jaw up to his ear. "I get it. You own me. I want that. Relax. Help me pack."

I went to pull away but Fang pulled me back, and his hands slid up and down my body. I sighed. "Fang." I pulled off my shirt and pointed to a spot right below my belly button. His eyes slowly swept down my body until they settled on the hickey there.

"You own me. Nobody else."

He dipped down and kissed the spot lightly, then pushed me off of his lap. "Okay, where do we start?"

* * *

A lot can change in a few months, because Fang works for a music industry, kind of, and it's three days a week, and so I barely see him because when he gets off he only has two hours and then he goes to school until late. It's a pain in the ass. And so, logically, to spend some of my time doing something useful rather than sitting around missing him, I decided to get a job. Which he did not like, because he's stupid.

"What's wrong with that?" I asked as he slid his tie around his neck. He looked super sexy in his semi-formal work clothes. Suuuper sexy. "Now I can help pay the rent."

He was too distracted by my speaking to finish doing his tie, so I sauntered over and began tying it, purposely running my hands over his chest. I laced my fingertips behind his neck and looked up at him.

"I don't _want_ you to have to help pay the rent. We're doing fine. Not one bill we can't pay."

I pouted. "Yeah, but I never get to see you."

He sighed and kissed my forehead. "I'm going to work. You're not getting a job. Bye." He slipped out of my arms and headed for the door.

Butthead.

I grabbed his tie and yanked him back to me, shoving him up against the wall. He looked down at me.

"What."

"You be a butthead, you don't let me get a job, I make you breakfast in the morning, help you with your tie, sleep with you, and study with you for your finals and after all of that you _still _won't even give me a kiss before you leave for six hours? Oh, my god."

He smirked and looked down at me. "I _did_ kiss you."

I rolled my eyes. "On the forehead."

He took my face into his hands and leaned down to kiss my mouth, but I pulled away at the last moment.

"No, now it's too late," I said, and he thought about this for a moment before squeezing by me, grabbing his briefcase and his keys, and walking out of the door. I stared at it, dumbfounded, and then threw it open. I ran down the hall to catch him and pushed him onto the floor in the middle of the hall I straddled his waist and pinned his arms above his head.

Yeah. I'm insane.

"Hey, baby."

I rolled my eyes. "Hey, asshole."

He smiled up at me and I turned to jelly. He used this opportunity to wiggle his arms free and hold me just below my ribcage. He rubbed circles just below my bra with the pad of his thumb and then slid his hands down to rest on my hips.

"I'm going to kiss you," he said. I beat him to it, though, leaning down and covering his mouth with mine. He flattened his hands on my back and pressed me closer, closer, closer, until I was lying on him in the middle of the hall. I threaded my fingers into his hair and cupped his jaw, parting his lips. Then I slowed down, peppered kisses along his jaw, and sat up again. He looked disappointed, then he cupped my jaw.

"I love you, Maximum."

I could have cried then, but I didn't.

"I love _you,_" I whispered, and then I crawled off of him and put my hand down to help him up. He took it, then pulled me into his chest in a hug. He kissed the top of my head, then my mouth quickly before coming up and looking into my eyes. He bit his lip and then slowly slid his arms away, and walked out of the building.

The I love you's that were once said didn't compare to that one.


	25. Chapter 25

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

"If I had a strange resemblance to a ceiling fan, Fang, would you still love me?"

Fang moaned, curling his hand around my waist and bringing me to his side so that he could see the television. I plopped onto the couch beside him, leaving my leg over his lap, and I kissed his neck.

"Would you?"

He shoved me down into the soft pillows of the couch. "Aaaannnndddd, he's gonna...no...yes...no, goddamnit! Just fucking throw the damn ball—"

Fang is very passionate about his sports.

"Ffffaannnng..."

"Max. Shut up," he said, leaning forward onto his elbows.

"Let's go out on a date," I said, glancing at the clock. "It's only six."

He said, "I'm busy."

I began to cry softly, and he flipped out. "Damn it, and now you have to cry! Max, baby, you _know_ that when the game comes on it's the one time I can't pay attention to you."

"One time!" I shrieked. I mean, sure, I was faking the tears, but I was still pissed. "You go to work, then school, then when you get home it's the game, and then we go to bed, and—"

"Shit!" he said. "Throw it to an open player, stupid ass, not to the opposing team." He noticed my glare then. "Okay, sorry, baby, it's just..." He motioned to the TV. "He shouldn't have passed it there."

I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Max, really. Don't pout about this."

"Fine," I said, getting off of the couch and going into our shared bedroom. I stripped of my slinky pajamas and changed into a slutty, black, strapless cocktail dress, with a coat over it. I let my hair fall from my bun into long waves down my back, threw on dark makeup and peep toe pumps, grabbed my wallet, and went toward the door.

Fang was up in an instant. "Maximum, where are you going?"

"Out," I answered, throwing the door open, pulling my cell phone from my bag. I pressed Macy's speed dial, then held the phone to my ear. Fang took the phone, folding it closed and slipping into the back pocket of his jeans. Macy, a girl that goes to Fang's school that I met when they were doing a project together, lived just down the street. I began walking toward the exit.

"Where is out?" he asked sternly.

I looked back into our apartment. "Your game, Fang. It looks lonely. Maybe you should sleep with _football_. Oh, wait, can't stick your dick into _that_, can you?"

He smirked. "I'm sure I can find a way."

Disgusted, I turned on my heel and walked more briskly. Then Fang's hand closed over the back of my coat and I was reeled backward.

"What?" I snapped, slapping at his hand.

He untied my jacket and watched it fall open, then his eyes scanned my body. His fingers fell to the end of my dress and skimmed my thigh.

"Your dress," he said, "is seventeen thousand times too short."

"_Dad_," I said, "your game is missing you dearly."

Fang rolled his eyes and his eyes fell to my chest. "And the neckline is far too low. If you're going out, then you have to change."

He was _serious,_ too, like after ignoring me when we hadn't spent time together in days, he could order me around.

"Nope," I said, and tucked my hair behind my ear.

"Then get back inside," he told me.

"Nope," I repeated.

"Max." He slipped his arm around my waist. "I'm not going to let you go out and have a million men hit on you, you being their only attention. It's not going to happen."

"Really? I think that sounds great. At least _someone_ would be paying attention to me, since my own boyfriend can't." I threw his arm off of my body.

I expected him to say something, but instead he just looked at me, eyes too pretty, face too handsome.

"All we do is fight," he said.

"No, actually, always is the wrong word. We weren't fighting ten minutes ago, when I wanted to go out on a date. A _date._ And my boyfriend wanted to watch the game instead." I cupped his face in my hands. "Fang, we don't spend enough time together. We are busy. I think that we should take advantage of the limited time."

He turned his head to kiss my wrist. "Are you mad?"

"Yeah," I said. "Of course I am. You were a dickhead. And you didn't even answer when I asked if you would still love me, even if I looked like a fan."

He laughed softly. "I'll love you no matter what."

"Then tell me, why did you only notice I was there when I got on this slutty dress?"

"Because, Max," Fang said, moving closer so that his arms slipped around me, "I'm the only man who gets to love you. Okay?"

I rolled my eyes. "And you think that they wouldn't if I weren't dressed like a whore?"

He kissed the tip of my nose. "I think that they would, and that's why I'm keeping you close, in the safety of our home, so that I'm the only man who is able to kiss, touch, or look at your hot body. Or your beautiful face and eyes. Or get to know your heart."

Oh.

He began to pull me back into the apartment but I held my ground. "No, Fang, I'm not coming and watching the game with you. I'm going out."

"But I thought we made up," he said.

"We didn't even fight, Fang, so shut up. Come with me."

His fingers moved over my body as he considered this. "But, the game..."

"Okay, bye," I said, starting toward the exit. "And I'm taking your car."

"You are _not_ taking my car."

"I am _so_ taking your car."

I squealed as Fang wrapped his arms around me from behind, his lips attached to my neck, pulling me back into the room. I tried to fight for a moment, but then his tongue came out and touched the sensitive skin, and my eyes rolled back into my head.

Damn him and his fucking tongue.

He chuckled and pulled me inside, flipping me around and pinning me to the door. He kissed me, then lifted me into his arms and brought me into our bedroom, lying me down. Our mouths moved together, our bodies moved together, our hips.

But really, we were one far before that. Since we were five years old, our hearts have been beating together, our thoughts, our entire beings.

**FANG POV:**

"Maaaaaaax, psssssttttttttttt...Maximum, oh Maaaaaaxxxximuuummmmm."

"Shut up!" she screamed, hitting me over the head with the pillow and turning, pressing her face into the pillow. "God, Fang, you're so fucking annoying."

I pouted and pulled open an eyelid of hers. She slapped me. "So are you. It's Saturday. Let's go out."

She moved my hand away so she could close her eye. "Isn't there football on, or something you'd rather be doing?"

I pounced on her and pinned her arms to the side. "Really? You're still mad after a whole night of mind blowing sex, after I gave you four, yes, _four—"_

"I would forgive you, but you never said sorry."

"That _was_ my sorry."

"Tell me how awesome I am," she said. I rolled my eyes. "I'm serious."

"You're cool and hot and pretty and funny," I said dryly.

She said, "I hate you."

I dipped down with a smile and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. "You, Maximum Ride, are beautiful. And the greatest girlfriend ever."

Max squinted up at me, studying my face to see if I was bluffing or not. Finally, she said, "I know I am. But you, on the other hand, are _not _a good boyfriend."

"Why!" I said, sitting down on her hips.

"Ow! That's why! You're heavy and you just sat on me! You're inconsiderate." I smiled and got on my knees, leaning down and kissing the side of her neck.

"Sorry," I murmured. "I'm not letting you up until you say I'm a good boyfriend."

"But you're _not—"_

I slapped my hand over her mouth. She licked it. I released her.

"Fang. You rock my socks."

I released my hand. "Really?"

She rolled her eyes, lifted up her legs, and kicked me in the stomach. I flew off of her and onto the floor.

She squealed and ran over to me, leaning down. "Oh, my god, are you okay?" She asked between giggles. "I didn't think you were that light."

"I am not _light!_ I'm lean."

She snorted and walked right out of the room.

**MAX POV:**

He goes to work, I cook and clean. It's like we're married already.

Except hopefully when that happens he won't be such an ass.

"It smells good, hon," he told me, wrapping his arms around my waist and leaning over me to snag a biscuit. I elbowed him in the stomach and snatched it back, placing it back on the plate. He came closer and spun me around, leaning me over the counter.

"Mr. and Mrs. Fang Martinez," he breathed, trying it out on his tongue. "Mrs. Maximum Ride Martinez."

"Fang," I said. "Fang, you're only nineteen."

He ignored me. "Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas James Ryan. Mrs. Ryan-Martinez. Mr. Nicholas Ryan-Martinez."

I stared at him.

"I want you to be my wife."

I stroked the side of his face with my palm. "We're far too young."

He stared into my soul. "So if I were to drop down on one knee right now and promise you forever, you'd say no?"

I looked away, but he pulled my face back to him. "We're too _young_."

He brushed his lips over my forehead. "I wasn't going to ask you, anyway." I kissed his mouth quickly. "But I am going to. And you're going to say yes because we're soul mates."

"Soul mates. Really."

He nodded, kissing me sweetly. "Maximum Ride Ryan Martinez. It's too long."

"Maximum Ryan. Maximum Ride Ryan. No, that doesn't work because they start with the same letter. Maximum Ride-Martinez."

He cocked his head to the side. "I don't remember my parents or anything, but, you know, it's my last name still..."

"Fang," I said, wrapping my arms around him, "I don't care if your last name was cocksucker, I'd still marry you and take it. Names mean nothing. I just want you."

"Cocksucker," he breathed, mixed in with the beginnings of a chuckle. "That would be awesome."

I smiled, touching my hand to his forehead, then his cheek, and next to his chest. "Hey, Fang, guess what?"

"What?" he asked, leaning his forehead against mine.

I was gonna tell him that he's a stupid motherfucker, but the look he gave me changed my mind.

"I love you. A lot."

He said, "Really. Because saying you would marry me even if my last name was _cocksucker_ didn't give it away."

I frowned. "That was hypothetical. And now I take it back."

He laughed. "You can't. Now I'm going down to the offices and changing my name. Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas Cocksucker."

"Fang, I hate you," I said, pushing on his chest. He pulled me back into him.

He swayed me back in forth in his arms, cooing, "You loooovvveeeee meeeeeee, Max loooovvvveesssss meeeeeeeeeeeeee..."

I turned around. "So what! You love me, too, so there!"

"And who in the _world _convinced you of that?" he asked, a grin on his beautiful mouth.

"Oh, just this one douchebag who nearly proposed to me, eh," I glanced at my imaginary watch, "five minutes ago."

He just laughed. Inside of us, children were trapped. And I think they broke free, as he picked me up and threw me on the couch, and we proceeded to wrestle around, like in my bed at the foster home, where at the end, we would be so exhausted that we would fall asleep right there, tangled.

He was right. We _were_ soul mates.

The next Monday, Fang returned home from work in the evening. I was in the dining room, working at the table, shuffling through pictures of us at all different ages. Him kissing my cheek at five, both of us blushing. Iggy shoving his face into the dirt. The next one of Fang socking Iggy in the jaw. Swinging. Wrestling. Laughing. Swimming. Smiling. Loving.

He came in, and I was crying over the pictures, crushed by memories so sweet, and he came over to me and looked at the pictures. We both looked at them for a bit, hands locked together, and I finally looked up at his face.

Over his lips, and partially on his cheek, was hot red lipstick.


	26. Chapter 26

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

I had options, and I was maturing enough to stop being impulsive and consider them:

1- Cut his balls off

2- Kill him

3- Find the bitch and kill _her_ (after option 2)

4- Leave him

5- Pretend I don't see it to get information

I chose five. Yes. I'm a big girl. I didn't go get the scissors. Be proud of me.

My heart was dying. Everything was practically perfect, and then _BAM_. Well maybe just _bam. _I mean, I could have expected it, if Fang wasn't so perfect and I'd had so much faith in him. He was _never_ home. He _never_ wanted to be seen in public with me. He didn't say my name during sex—he didn't say her's, either, just cursing. His goodbyes were rushed. His _I love you_s were meaningless.

But then, it's kind of my fault. I sent Fang to bed before standing in front of the bathroom mirror. I wasn't very pretty. My hair was in a gross bun, I was wearing no makeup, I had gained a pound or two. I was always dressed in sweats and tee shirts. I never dressed up. She was probably beautiful. She would be tall and blond with colored eyes that he'd drown in. Her cup size would be two letters bigger than mine. Her waist would be smaller. Her lips would be perfection. Covered in red lipstick. I didn't even own a tube of red lipstick.

Maybe I should buy one.

We had gotten too comfortable with each other. I had begun to think that no matter what I did, he would love me. He would love the way that I looked and the things that I did, the way that I talked. He would stay faithful.

"Come to bed, love. I'm tired."

"Go to _sleep_, then," I ground out through my tears. I knew he would recognize it.

"Max? Are you crying?" I heard the rustling of sheets and before he could open it I locked the door. He twisted the handle, but couldn't get inside. "Max. Unlock the door."

"Go to bed," I said, sobbing now, "just go to bed."

"Baby—"

"STOP."

He took deep breaths. "Let me in. I don't know what's wrong. Unlock the door and tell me what's wrong."

I didn't.

"Open the fucking door, goddamnit!"

"Just go to bed!" I screamed back, and there was silence.

"Baby," I heard the whisper through the door. "Max, you can trust me." A pause, then slowly, "Are you pregnant? Max, it's okay; we can...we can do whatever we want. I'm supporting you all the way—"

I opened the door quickly. Fang's lips were red. My cheeks were the same. With another sob, I pulled him into the restroom and then threw him forward until his forehead hit the mirror. He backed away slowly, then saw it.

"Shit."

Shit is right.

"I'll sleep on the couch," I said softly, wedging between him and the counter so that I could feel his body against mine while escaping. Then I walked out of the door. His hand shot out and caught my wrist like a bug in a venus fly trap.

"Let me explain."

"I'm too tired for your excuses."

"Maximum—"

The bitch came out. Rawr.

"LEAVE. ME. THE. FUCK. ALONE."

"Please, baby," Fang whispered. "Don't, Max, let me..."

I snapped my wrist from his grasp and grabbed a pillow, a blanket. He caught me around the waist and said, "At least let _me_ sleep on the couch."

I wasn't going to argue. He deserved to sleep on a _rock._

I didn't get one ounce of sleep.

**FANG POV:**

Shit. Fuck. Kill me now. I don't deserve to live. Fuck.

**MAX POV:**

Breakfast was awkward.

_It shouldn't be like this,_ I thought. _We should be closer._

We were sitting across from each other, eating cereal. He breathed in, then I breathed in. Never in sync. When our feet would accidentally touch underneath the table, we would apologize. Other than that, we did not talk.

"Well, I have to go to work now," he said, and I thought, _to fuck your coworker._

"Yeah, okay."

He stood up and put the bowl in the sink, then turned on the faucet. "I'll wash that," I called out.

"It's fine," he replied. "I can do it."

"I want to."

"You like washing the dishes?" he asked.

"Not really."

"Oh. Okay."

_That_ kind of awkward.

He came back into the dining room and grabbed his briefcase, then went for the door. I got up and followed him there, until he was opening it and turned around to face me.

"Have a good day," I whispered, kissing his cheek. He stared at me, nodding, and then brushed some hair from my face. My hair was still in its shit bun, I was wearing a long, ratted sweater with my underwear. He held my hand and sighed.

"I can't leave you like this," he started.

"Fang, just go. I have some things to do today anyway."

"Like?"

"Stuff."

He sighed again. "Bye, Max."

I was going to pack up my things and go to a motel until I figured things out, but I couldn't. I couldn't imagine it. Instead, I made him spaghetti, put it in a tupperware container, and brought it down to his office. I'd only been here once before, so I had to ask the secretary where his office was.

"Nicholas Ryan?"

She smiled sweetly, a heavy lady with red hair, and said, "Down the hall to the left, dear. You'll see the sign."

I did, and didn't even knock before entering.

A woman was in there, sitting across from him at his desk. He was playing with a paperweight as she leaned across the desk, cleavage on full display. She was a blond, long straight hair. She pointed to things on the computer screen, leaning over more, while he sighed. His eyes caught mine and he straightened up, clearing his throat. With that, the girl straightened up, too, and looked back at me. She smiled.

Red lipstick.

"Hi," I croaked out.

"Hi. I'm Evangeline. And you are?" Her voice was sweet like sugar.

"Max," I said.

"I love that name for a girl. It's cute."

She was wearing a dress, one that was short and cute and summery. I was in cutoff denim shorts and a tucked in V-neck. She looked like a goddess, and I looked like shit. My boobs felt too small. My stomach felt to heavy. My eyelashes weren't long enough. My legs weren't smooth enough. My hair was messy and curly, hers was straight and glossy. My lips wore chapstick and hers wore red. Bloodred.

"Thanks," I said. I was about five seconds from breaking down into sobs. I looked at Fang and put the tupperware on a bookshelf in his office. "If you want to eat something for lunch, I brought this for you." I tapped the lid with my nail once and then looked back at them. "Nice meeting you, Evangeline."

She smiled bright. There was a purple hickey on the side of her neck. "Same, Max."

He didn't call after me when I left his office.

That night, he went straight to the couch, without a word to me. I could have been dead, and he wouldn't have known.

He made me breakfast the next morning. I sat at the dining room table and he slid it into the place in front of me. I ate slowly, not meeting his eyes. He ate, too, then took my plate and he washed them. I was curled into a ball in my chair. He brushed a kiss across my forehead and then walked out of the door, to work, Evangeline.

I took him lunch again, and she was on the other side of his desk, right next to him. His arm was around her, and his other was pointing at the computer screen. They were both laughing, smiling at whatever was showing.

_When was the last time we had ever been happy like that_?

I didn't want the answer to that.

He turned to her. "You were so cute!"

A baby video?

"Were?" she laughed.

He looked at her with a smile before turning back to the screen, beginning to giggle again. His arm was still around her. It tightened.

I put the tupperware container on the bookshelf, fried chicken, and only when I slammed the door behind me did I see him look up.

I was crying the entire way home, and so, of course by the time I was in my building my eyes were red and gross. I looked through my purse in search for my key to the apartment, and I couldn't find it. Because everything wasn't bad enough, right?

Right.

So I collapsed in sobs and leaned against the door, shaking.

"Are you okay?"

A British accent. I looked up through my sobs to see a dark haired guy sit next to me against the door.

"DO I LOOK LIKE I'M OKAY?"

"Well," he said, "...well, no. But, well, it just seemed like the thing to say, I guess."

"What's your name?" he asked me, touching the wall like it was magical. "I'm Cade."

Now that I was semi-calmed down and semi-concentrating, I realized he was kind of cute. His eyes were like the denim of jeans or the darkness of the ocean at night. His hair swept right below his eyebrows. He had long eyelashes that made the blue stand out. He was tall and lean, muscular. Dimples in his cheeks, white teeth. He was more than cute, actually.

I was too busy thinking about that that I forgot what he had said in the first place.

"Oh," was my smart reply.

"Your name?" He studied my face.

"Max."

"Mhmm." I looked at him, and his fingers reached down to the front pocket of my jeans. At first I jumped, but then he pulled out my key chain, dangling it in front of my face. I smiled, and he smiled, then I sighed. "Here, Max."

"Thanks." I got to my feet and unlocked my door, propped it open, and looked down at him. "See you around?"

He shrugged. "Tomorrow?"

I nodded. "Sure."

"I'm right next door." He got to his feet and brushed off the back of her jeans. "Nice meeting you, Max."

"Yeah," I said with a nod. "You, too."

Fang didn't come home until after one a.m., but he came into our room, and I could hear him slipping out of his clothes. I heard the jingle of his belt being undone, and the sound of fabric scraping against skin as it was removed. I heard his sigh, and the noise his fingers made as they pulled through his hair. He was looking at me now; I could feel his gaze.

"Max?"

I didn't reply, even though I was awake.

"I love you."

My heart was hammering against my chest.

"More than anything."

Now he slid into the bed, right beside me, and laid his arm over me, the other tucking my head against his chest. He kissed my hair, my neck, and then tucked me tighter before relaxing his body in preparation for sleep. I melted back into him, feeling his bare chest and his hair sweeping against my neck. I began crying quietly, but then I wasn't able to hold them in, and Fang wiped my tears with his fingers.

"It's not what you think, Max," he whispered.

"It's exactly what I think."

He sighed. "I'm not with any other woman."

"_Yes you are_."

"But I love you," he said, and it could have healed anything back then, but everything felt far too late.

"Not enough, apparently."

He turned my body to face his and looked into my eyes. "It's always been you, for me."

"That's probably why it's wearing off," I said. "For almost two years it's been me you've been coming home to, been kissing goodnight. Me you've had to look at. Me you've been having sex with. Only me, and I'm so ugly compared to her, and I'm getting fat, and I never dress up, and I _get it_, which sucks the most, because if I were you I'd probably cheat on me, too!"

I wasn't even sure that he could understand me, I was crying so hard.

"Max, don't even say that. You know how beautiful you are. You know how much I love every inch of you. You're not getting fat, you have a beautiful body. I like you best when you're not dressed up, because you look just as pretty as when you dress up. I'm not cheating on you."

"Then explain it, Nick! Explain the fucking lipstick!"

There was a pause that was filled with his deep sigh. "We did kiss—"

"Oh my ggooodddddd," I cried, pressing my face into the pillow, screaming.

"Goodnight, baby," he cooed, kissing my head before getting up and sleeping on the couch.

Because that's _exactly_ what I needed.

Weeks passed without any words to each other apart from "goodmorning", "goodbye", "I'll be home late", "you can take a shower first," and "thanks."

It was hell. He slept on the couch, I slept on the cold bed. We ate breakfast with each other, never dinner or lunch. I would sometimes bring lunch to him, only to see Evangeline and him getting closer and closer. It was like we didn't even live together. We were like roommates that hated each other. His scent was fading from the bed sheets.

Oh, also, Cade asked me out.

It was super sweet, innocent, also sexy, but that's only because _he's_ sexy. He just asked me to go to dinner with him, and when I'd said yes, he told me how fancy it was. One of the fanciest restaurants in New York. So I had to dress up. The dress was short and midnight blue, my makeup was smoky, my legs were smooth, my heels were killer, and my hair was waving down my back.

"You look like sin," Cade said with a cute smirk when I'd stepped out of my door to see him in the hallway. I smiled back at him, slipping my arm through his. With my heels I was only one inch shorter than him. "You look beautiful," he said, against complimenting me, leaning over to kiss my cheek before leading me down the steps to his car.

That's when I remembered. "Shit, I left my clutch somewhere." He quirked an eyebrow. "It has my house key in it, my I.D., everything. I need to get it."

"Where is it?"

"My roommate's office," I said smoothly. I had brought him lunch earlier that day, and I had to take things out of my purse to get the bag out. I left it on the bookshelf. I really didn't need it that bad, but it would go great with my dress, and the real reason: I wanted Fang to want me back.

"I'll drive you," he offered, and I nodded with a _thanks_.

"It'll only take a second," I said with a sweet smile, once he had driven me to the office, and I was stepping out of the car. He smiled back, saying that he would be waiting right out front.

Evangeline was sitting atop his desk, her long legs stretched out to put her feet in his lap. Her black stilettos were on the desk, toppled over, and his hands were working her feet and calves, massaging her. When I clicked open the door his hands stopped their movement, right at her knees.

"Hi Max," she said to me, smiling, sliding her feet farther so that his palms slid upward, right above her knees. "You look hot."

Fang just stared at me.

"I left my wallet here," I explained, staring at his hands on her legs, long, tan.

"Oh." He removed his hands to reach over and get it from his desk, putting it on top. I didn't make any movement toward it. "Um, don't wait up for me tonight," I said, even though neither of us waited up for the other anymore. She had to know that we lived together. She had to know that I was his girlfriend. She had to know that we'd had sex. She had to know that he loved me.

But did he?

He had to know that I wasn't going to sit by. He had to know that I had a date. He had to know that I was hurt. That I wanted to die because the pain was so bad.

_But did he?_

"Where...are you going out?" Fang asked slowly.

I nodded.

"Can I come with you?" he asked. This was surprising.

"You might be an intrusion, you know?"

His eyes scrunched together adorably.

"You're going out on a date?"

I nodded. "A guy from our building. We're friends now. He's soooo hot. And nice. Those types of guys make me wish that I'd never been with _anyone_ else my _whooolleee_ life. I mean, like, he's so sweet, I'd _never_ ever have to worry about him mistreating me. Also, he thinks I'm the most beautiful girl he'd ever met. I'd never have to worry about him doing anything...sickening, like cheating on me when he _swears_ I mean the world to him. You know, Nick?"

Max was back.

Fang stared at me, eyes with hatred. Evangeline crossed her legs dramatically to emphasize how long they were and looked away from us,

I licked my lips agonizingly slow and leaned over his desk so that he got a full view of my cleavage, and snatched my clutch up.

"Does this guy know that you have a boyfriend?" he asked as I went to open the door.

I turned around and met his eyes, letting out a cool, calm, collected laugh. "_I _don't even know if I have a boyfriend." I looked at them again, smiling fake. "You guys have fun! Fuck like animals." I looked straight at Evangeline. "Too bad all he'll be thinking about is me when he touches you, when he fucks you. I'm the best he'll ever have." I turned to him. "By the time you realize it, I'll be gone."

I slammed the door, my heels clicking, my hips swaying, every person on the floor staring in awe.

Max was _so_ back.


	27. Chapter 27

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

"You know what I love?"

"What?"

"This," Cade said, motioning out to the night. "This perfect contentment. No worries. Just peace. Everything," he said, then looked right at me, "is just beautiful."

HA. HA. HA. . NO WORRIES. HA. HA. HA. HA. HA.

I leaned forward against the railing and he put his arm around me. If I hadn't known Fang my whole life, I could have felt Cade's arm around me, not his, but it was impossible. There it was. Muscular and annoying and cheating.

I looked at him. "You know what _I _love?"

"Hm?"

"Chocolate chip cookies."

He smirked, pulling me into the side of his body. "If I didn't like holding you right here so much, I might take you out to get some. I have some at my place. Embarrassingly enough, my mommy sent them to me. She has some amazing cookie-making skills."

I moved out of his arm. "Get me cookies," I whined.

He propped an elbow on the railing, looking at me. "Get me some cookies what?"

I rolled my eyes. "Get me some cookies or I'll kill you?"

"Wrong answer."

I sighed. Anything for the cookies. "PPPLEEEAASEEE?"

He smiled in satisfaction. "Okay, fine, god. Beg me why don't you."

They were _awesome._ Like, wanting to be a professional chocolate chip cookie eater when I get older, I'm quite picky when it comes to my cookies, but dear god. They were orgasmic cookies. Inside of my mouth, a thousand people were coming, just from the taste. I'm not kidding. That's how good they were.

Okay. That doesn't even make any sense. But if it did, then that's how they would be described. Just work with me here, people. The cookies were really fucking good.

"You know what I'm thinking?" Cade asked, coming closer to me, then leaning down and putting his arms on either side of me so that he was trapping me against it. Jesus, he had nice arms. So smooth, and tan, and strong...

"What are you thinking?"

He stared at me. "About how much I want to kiss you."

And it forced me to think. Did I have a boyfriend? Did I _really? _Was this cheating? We lived together, but didn't sleep together. We lived together, but didn't speak. He was having some sort of an affair with a woman at his job. Did I have a boyfriend? I decided that I didn't.

"What are you waiting for?" I asked, loping my arms around his neck lazily. He glanced at my mouth, then closed the distance.

With Fang, every time that we kissed there was a spark. There was love, there was need. In Cade's kiss, it was nice, but it was dull. The truth was, no matter how much of a dick Fang was, it would always be him. No matter what. He's been there forever, and I've been with him for years. What I felt for him could never compare, even with someone as great as Cade. But then, there was a line. Was this codependency? If I gave up Cade, would I be throwing away my own happiness for Fang? Was I here, getting treated like shit by him, while I could have a chance at being happy, with another guy?

I let him kiss me, but it was always nice. Nothing more.

"Max," he whispered against my mouth, and I pulled away. "Max, you're thinking about something else."

I slid my arms from his shoulders and crossed them over my chest. "What?"

He brushed a strand of hair from my face, and I hated how gentle it was. Why couldn't he just suck? It would be so much easier. He laughed. "You're thinking about something else while I kiss you." He dramatically placed his hand over his heart. "That hurts."

I smiled. "Sorry—"

He waved his hand in a _whatever_ gesture. "Don't trip, potato chip. It felt like I was kissing my sister, anyway. That was disgusting."

Fabulous.

Blunt.

"God, don't sugar coat that. Sorry, I haven't kissed that many people."

He smiled. "No, you're a great kisser. But it still felt like I was kissing my sister. Don't get me wrong, I still think you're insanely hot, but I think that we're better as friends. It's obvious there's someone else for you, anyway. So tell me, who is it?"

I looked at him. "I'll tell you someday."

Sometimes, somedays never come.

**ELLA POV:**

Iggy and mine's cell phone's rang at the exact same time, from each of our nightstand.

"Ignore it," he grumbled against my lips. "Call back later."

I wanted to, god, did I want to, but that was just weird. "We should at least..._oh, Iggy..._check who it is..._oh my god!"_

He chuckled. It didn't stop ringing. I pulled myself away and looked at the screen. "It's Max," I said, surprised. "What the hell..."

I hadn't spoken to her in months, apart from a few quick texts and facebook conversations. Iggy checked his own. "Fang," he grumbled, then rolled out of bed and into the living room to take the call.

"Max," I sighed, "what the hell are you doing calling me at midnight?"

Her breathing was ragged. God dammit. I hated it when she cried.

"It's—it's Fang," she said. I could tell that she was trying to hold herself together.

"What happened to Fang? Is he hurt?"

"No," Max answered. I got out of bed and tied my hair back, biting my lip. "He...we...God, I don't know. There's something going on with him and this woman from his office..." I gasped. "Ella, she's too beautiful. There's no way that I can compete. Not even close..."

I sighed. "What _exactly_ is going on between them?"

"I don't know," she said, and I heard the rustling of sheets. "One night, he had lipstick on his mouth, and we didn't even get in a fight or anything, but he's been sleeping on the couch ever since...then I went to visit him, and she was in there...they weren't doing anything...but then the next few times that I went to bring him lunch they were closer...I don't know, Ella, but we haven't been talking in weeks."

I rubbed my eyes. "But you're still living together?" I asked.

"Yeah, we are. Also, there's this guy named Cade. We've been hanging out. We kissed tonight, but it felt too weird so we agreed that we were better off as friends..."

"Max, you need to talk to him."

"I'm so scared," she whispered, sounding it.

Max wasn't scared of anything.

**MAX POV:**

I walked into a dark apartment, kicking off my boots and hanging up my jacket, leaving me in a thin camisole and jeans. I threw my keys into the bowl, where they clanked against it. I stretched my arms over my head. I would talk to Fang tonight. We would discuss everything. Everything would be better, because Fang is my soul mate, and we would be together, no matter what. We were Max and Fang, and we got through everything and everything. We were made for each other.

"Fang?" I whispered. "Are you here?"

"Maximum," I heard, and then a light was flicked on. The voice was too dark, too evil, too taunting. I turned around, and heard myself gasp. Then I was pulled back into his arms. I was trained to defend myself, and I was kicking, hitting. "Oh, beautiful girl, don't fight back."

Everything was dark.

**FANG POV:**

There were ambulances outside of our apartment, and our neighbors were outside, a woman was in tears. I noticed her as Miss Carlson, the lady that lived next door. There were stretchers. Max's car was in the garage. Oh, god, don't let anything have happened to her. I ran as fast as I could up to Miss Carlson.

"Miss Carlson, what happened?" I asked, my voice in too much of a rush.

She sobbed. "It's Max—there was a guy...he—there..." She was too much of a mess to perform coherent sentences, but I had all the information I needed to hear. _Max_.

I ran up to a police officer, who was walking out of the building. "Where are they taking her?" I asked.

"Sorry, son, we're not answering any questions right now." He walked more briskly.

"Sir, please—"

"I said," he growled, more annoyed, "that we're not answering any questions at the moment."

I stepped in front of him again. "Please," I whispered, breaking in two, "she's my girlfriend. She's my...she's my life."

He stopped and looked at me, then released a sigh. "Wilson Hospital," he answered, and I rushed a thank you as I sprinted to my car.

"She has injuries that suggest she's been beaten and raped," the doctor told me.

I wanted to cry.

"We're testing the semen found on her..."

"Oh, _god..._" I wanted to throw up.

"...underwear for DNA, hopefully we can have the suspect. We have yet to check her vaginal area to see if there was any actual penetration, I have to have her agree when she wakes for legal issues. If there was, then there is a chance that she could be pregnant. She was severely beaten up, Mr. Martinez. Bruising, internal bleeding...and sometime during the struggle, her head was banged up...she suffered through a concussion. I'm not sure how much she is going to remember when she wakes up, or if there is any brain damage...she's in a coma, I don't know when she'll wake up..."

I couldn't listen. I stared at her, lying in the hospital bed, tubes branching out from her, bandages covering her body. Braces. Blood. Bruises. Her eyelids, gently shut.

"Thank you," I nodded to the doctor, and sat beside her bed, taking her in. I took her left hand; her right was broken. _She was broken._ And it was my fault. If I were there...

"My angel," I whispered softly, brushing my lips over her forehead. "I'm so sorry."

I laid by her side for three days. I had called the family and they had come to visit. Tears, cries, sobs. Ella and Iggy visited first, and they both came to talk to me, privately.

"Fang," Ella had said, "I'm really sorry."

I nodded.

"What was going on between you two?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"I...I don't know..."

She was crying, and Iggy kissed her temple sweetly. What if I was never able to do it to Max again? To lean over, to pull her close, to kiss her sweetly? I wanted to cry. I needed to. Some kind of release. But I was numb...so _numb._

"Did you cheat on her?"

"No," I whispered. "Never. It was...it was something weird...but I didn't...I wouldn't...Ella, you have to believe me; I would _never...god, _I love her so much, and, and..."

She touched my arm. "It's okay," she whispered, smiling through her tears, "I believe you," and she pulled me into a hug. Her tears wet my cheeks, but they weren't my own.

On the morning of the fourth day, the doctor told me to go home, telling me that they would call when she gained consciousness. Though I was against it, I decided it was for the best. But I couldn't...go to the place where she was attacked. It was a crime scene. So I rented a hotel room, got cleaned up, and waited. I didn't go to work, I called in sick and when those days were used up I used my vacation days. I couldn't go. I was in pain...and Evangeline would be there...and I just..._couldn't_.

Three days later, and I was by her side again. I hadn't gotten a call, but I couldn't take it. I needed to hear her soft breath, to place my hand on her breast and feel her heartbeat. I needed to be there, to feel her warm skin, to take in the beauty that still exist, underneath bruises and scars. A beauty that could never disappear.

I still had not cried, and it drove me crazy. Another man had touched her. My baby, he'd touched her, he'd...taken advantage of her.

"Oh, darling, I'm so sorry." I put my head on her chest, and for the first time in a week I got rest.

I was awoken by someone calling my name. I groggily looked up to see a police officer in the doorway, and a man in a suit next to him. I pushed myself up off of the bed and walked to them slowly. I reached out my hand to shake theirs.

"Mr. Martinez, we wanted to inform you that we found a match for the DNA of Maximum Ride's attacker. You two are in a relationship, yes?"

Were we?

My heartbeat sped up.

"Yes," I answered. "I'm her boyfriend. Who was it?"

The man with the suit stepped up and spoke. According to his badge, he was with the FBI. "A man named Sam Weir."

I will kill the bastard. I will _kill _him. If it's the last thing I do.

"Please understand that we need to ask you these questions. You aren't a suspect, we know that you weren't there at the time of the crime." He pulled out a notepad. "Does the name sound familiar to you at all?"

"Yeah," I answered, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "He's, um, her ex boyfriend. He and I didn't get along. But that was back in high school, before we moved away...I don't know how...he..."

He was scrawling down on his fucking notepad.

"Does he have motive?"

"Well to hurt me, obviously...they didn't have a rough breakup, but he's always been a bastard...I beat him up once."

They nodded at the same time.

"He resides in Los Angeles, California, correct?"

I nodded. "That's where Max and I used to live before I started going to Julliard."

They nodded again. "Have you had any contact with him since?"

I shook my head. "Not since we moved. I don't know how...or why now..."

"Was there anything that Maximum did to him that could have...upset him?"

I shook my head again. "Except for not letting him get into her pants; nothing that I know of."

After a few more questions, they were gone, and I returned next to Max's bed.

Another week passed, and visitors came in and out, but I never left her side. I never cried.

I started to talk to her, but then it hurt too much because not one part of her body moved in response. I put my hand over her heart and closed my eyes, listening to the beat, the only thing that was keeping me from falling apart.

**ONE MONTH LATER:**

I needed the tears. There were gallons that weren't being shed. I didn't go back to work. I just quit. Sam was on the run, not being found. I wanted to find him myself, kill him slowly, painfully, the worst way possible. But I couldn't leave her side. I couldn't.

**TWO MONTHS LATER:**

She wasn't awake. I needed to see the chocolate orbs, but instead there were pale lids that covered them and lashes that spread over her cheeks. I could not cry. I could not breathe.

Sam was still not found.

**THREE MONTHS LATER:**

I had still not cried for my love.

The police had found Sam, hiding in a hotel room in New Jersey. He was immediately put in jail. The trial was going to be in three months. I wanted him dead now. This instant. I did not want his fucking heart to beat. I didn't want him to be able to take in breaths, unless the air was filled with poison. I didn't want him to take another step, when I knew that he had broken my angel.

**FOUR MONTHS LATER:**

I was asleep, my head on her stomach, when there was a stir. My hand was locked into hers. My entire body jerked when I felt the movement, and I leaned back to look at her.

When her eyes fluttered open, my entire being let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, baby," I said, leaning forward and kissing her face: Her cheeks, her jaw, her mouth, her forehead. I pressed the button to call for a nurse. "Max, god, I'm so sorry. I love you, I'm so sorry. I love you so much, I love you, I love you, I love you...please, god, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry that he hurt you. You'll never believe who it was. Sam Weir. That bastard, he touched you. Oh, Max, I'm so glad you're awake...you don't know how much I've missed you. I'm so in love with you...and just...the _thought_ of losing you...I couldn't bear it..."

Her eyes met mine, swirling with confusion, tinged with sadness. She was beautiful. _My angel._

Then she opened her mouth.

"Who are you?" she asked, her head cocked to the side in confusion.

And I let my head fall into my hands, body shaking with sobs, and finally, finally cried.

* * *

NOTE: Sorry about that - I started school this week. I'll post a couple of chapters more right now.


	28. Chapter 28

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**FANG POV:**

She didn't remember any of the family members, either. Everybody flew in from all over to talk to her, to meet her, but there was nothing. Everybody cried. I thought that the hospital would drown in the tears. I would go down with it. They all agreed that it was best that she stayed with me, since I was the one that she was most likely to remember before anyone else.

And so, she came home with me.

We told her who we were. She got blank looks on her face that broke my heart. She knew who she was, though.

"I'm Maximum Ride," she said, when the doctor asked her. "But everyone calls me Max. It's sounds more badass."

She chuckled. I was sobbing. I'd missed her so.

She threw her thumb over her shoulder at me. "This fool thinks he knows me. Apparently I'm his girl. What a creeper." She looked at me to crack me a cute, sexy little smirk. "Anyway, when the hell am I getting out of this place?"

She was still her. Still my Max. But she wasn't. She was herself, and I was nobody, lost in darkness.

When she was still in her bed, close to unconsciousness, I would slide my fingers with hers and tell her our stories. She would laugh sometimes, when I would say something funny, but to her, what I was saying was a fairy tale, not our lives. She would fall asleep in the crook of my elbow. I would kiss her hair and whisper how much I loved her. Sometimes she would wake up, joke that I was a creeper, and move to the other side of the bed.

We were friends. It was like we just met, all over again. Our childhood memories were gone. Our adventures were gone. Our first date was gone. First dance. Our stolen kisses were gone. Our gentle touches were gone. Our first _I love you_. Everything was gone, because I was at fucking work instead of being where I was supposed to be, in bed with the woman I love, holding her closer.

Everything slipped through my fingertips in one night.

Because she was blacked out for almost the entire attack, she didn't have trauma issues. I was glad. The ones that she had were enough.

"Max," I'd said, leaning over to grab her hand. She moved it away.

"I know who I am."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm taking you home."

"Which is?" She yawned, tugging her jeans higher on her hips and tying her hair back.

"My apartment." I handed her purse over, which she slipped onto her shoulder. She cringed when she walked, and I knew that pain was shooting between her legs. It'd been bothering her since she awoke. She wasn't pregnant, thank god, according to the tests. "It's _our _apartment, actually."

She knew who I was now. I'd been talking to her for the two months after she awoke that she was hospitalized. Sure, she didn't really believe me, but she trusted me enough. I didn't tell her that she was my girlfriend, though. I decided that that sounded too suspicious. I told her that we were best friends. She wasn't my best friend anymore, though. She didn't know who I was. She called me Fang, but her voice was never soft. She only touched me when it was necessary. She never asked for help. She never complained when I knew how hurt she was. She shot out smart ass comments constantly, which was annoying, but also refreshing. She was my girl. Same girl as she was before.

I reached over and slipped her hand into mine, holding her close as we weaved ourselves to the exit of the hospital. She didn't embrace me back, but I didn't care. I needed her to know that I wouldn't let her go again.

We drove in silence, and when we got inside, she looked around briefly before limping over to the and flipping on Criminal Minds. I was hoping that she would see the pictures of us that were around the apartment and realize that we were in love, come into my arms, let me love her. But I knew that was far-fetched.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, standing in front of the screen.

"Moovve!" she yelled, motioning me over. "Goddamn, you're annoying."

I smiled. "Are you hungry?" she had to be; she hadn't eaten all day.

"No," she answered. I sidestepped so that she could see the TV again. I sat down next to her on the couch, where she was curled into a ball. I reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face, then reached back and untied her ponytail. She looked at me but didn't move. I ran my fingers through her hair and pulled it into a neater ponytail, then leaned down to kiss her shoulder.

She jumped to the other side of the couch, mumbling, "Fucking creeper."

I inhaled deeply.

I wished...I just wanted...

"Hey, you need to take a shower," I said. Max glanced over at me. She was so beautiful.

"I...um..." she said. "I don't know if..."

"Do you need help?" I asked.

She blushed, then slowly nodded. Tears were running down her face. I reached over and brushed them away, then took her fingers and pulled her to her feet. I clicked off the TV and led her to the restroom. I ran the bath and put bubble bath stuff in there, because girls liked that shit. When I pulled off her shirt, I began to cry myself. Her entire body was bruised. I reached out and brushed my fingers against one that wrapped around her rib cage and she cringed back. I wiped my tears and unbuttoned her pants to see an equal amount of bruises below her waist. I reached back and unclasped her bra, then turned off the water as she slipped out of her panties. She could barely move. I turned back around and gathered her in my arms and lowered her into the water.

Her hair floated around her, her tears flowed into the bath. I rolled up the bottom of my jeans and slipped off my socks, then sat at the edge of the tub, putting my feet inside. She closed her eyes.

When I was done washing her, I pulled her out again, soaking myself, and wrapped her into a fluffy towel. She snuggled into it, and I pulled it tighter around her body. She waddled into the living room again.

When was the last time I had seen her naked?

I pulled her into our shared room and took out clothes for her as she sat on the edge of the bed.

When was the last time I had slept in it with her?

I dressed her, careful not to hurt her, into pajamas. She thanked me curtly and I stared at her. I didn't want this life. She was miserable, I was miserable. She had no idea how much I loved her. She didn't love me at all. She didn't...she wasn't _mine_ anymore. She was just herself, and we were both terrified.

"I want to show you something," I said, a few nights later as we both sat in the living room, me on the chair and her in the couch. She hadn't eaten since she'd gotten back, and wouldn't let me force her. Last time I tried, she punched me in the face. My lip had split open. She was losing so much weight. Her bruises were yellow now, fading away, but she was still hurting. I had washed her every day since the first time. She still didn't let me touch her otherwise.

Max followed me into the bedroom, and sat on our bed. I grabbed the scrapbook that I'd been working on since she went into the coma, and slipped behind her. She stiffened, but I stayed, wrapping an arm around her hips.

"I worked on this," I said, setting it down in front of her, and she bent over to flip it open.

The whole book was of us.

Photos, post it notes, text messages, written-on napkins. Just to prove to her that we were real.

I heard her gasp as she scanned over our memories. My lips pressing to her cheek in the winter, when her cheeks are red. Our hands clasped together as we take a tour. Her lips on my shoulder as we lookout of the window. Drunken photos of the two of us pretty much naked, laughing. Christmas morning, curled up with each other, warming up, waiting for the kids to open their presents. Our lips locked at the beach. In the house. On the mountains. Under mistletoe. Everywhere.

I saw her tears drop onto the pages in front of us. I leaned forward to kiss the back of her neck, but she jumped up, threw the book down, and ran. In all of her pain, she sprinted out of the room and to the door, then flung it open and ran further. I sprinted after her with all that I had, tripping a few times. I paused at the exit, and through the rain I saw a flash of pale skin and I ran faster, toward her. When I saw her form, I caught her waist and dragged her to the floor with me, out noses touching.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" I asked, pressing my fingertips into her hips, then loosening my pressure when she whimpered. "Max...Max, I couldn't lose you again," I whispered, leaning down to pull her into a hug. "I was scared to death."

I started to sob again, into her neck.

I think I forgot to mention that I was a pussy. Did I? I am one.

"Take me home," she said, and she was crying too. Our tears mixed with the rain.

I made us both hot chocolates when we arrived home. She curled up on the couch and I wrapped a blanket around her, then plopped myself next to her. Unexpectedly, she leaned her head onto my shoulder, and was just about to drift into sleep when there was a knock on the door. She woke up with a shake, and only when I tried to get up did I notice her death grip on my forearm. With a blush, she released it.

Evangeline was at my house.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I heard about your friend," she said. "She was raped. I'm so sorry."

I looked back at Max. There were tears in her eyes.

"What are you doing here?" I repeated.

She kicked one heel with the other. "I just...I wanted to make sure that you were okay...I knew that you two were really close, and you're not at work anymore..."

"I'm fine, Evangeline," I said, dismissing her. Before I shut the door, she kissed me, and I hated her taste.

Evangeline is in love with me. She actually is. We'd gotten close at work, even though I found her slightly repulsive, and then we started spending lunch breaks together. We talked. A year passed, and we still talked. Some nights, we went out to bars together after a particularly long work day. And then there was the night that she kissed me. It was a beautiful night. I wanted to get home to Max; things had been going so well with her lately, but I hadn't been home that often, so I needed her. We were walking toward our cars. She kissed me. I kissed her back. It was brief, and flooded me with guilt. Just the other day I had told Max that I was going to marry her, and now I was with another woman. I went home to my house, Evangeline went to hers.

Max was crying when I got home, but she was smiling through them, looking over at the table, at pictures. I leaned over her shoulder and looked at them, too. They were beautiful. She looked up, froze. Then she looked back at the photos, told me to get to bed, that she'd be in there soon. She went to the restroom. I can't fall asleep without her, safe, so I told her to come to bed. She was crying through her replies. We fought to open the door. I thought she was pregnant, and my heart soared at the thought of her body, my child inside its beautiful mother. She wasn't pregnant. I got inside, looked at the mirror. Evangline's lipstick was on my face. I slept on the couch, Max on the bed. I didn't sleep.

We ate breakfast together, and the awkwardness was unbearable. She kissed my cheek goodbye.

I told Evangeline that nothing would come of us. I didn't tell her that it was because of Max; I assumed that she knew I had a girlfriend. Max came into the office a lot, we made out in the elevators, had sex in my office. Everyone knew that she was my girlfriend. Evangeline said that she was sorry, but that she still wanted to be friends. I agreed: I mean, she was really annoying sometimes, but was always nice to me. She was pretty; hot, actually, but she was plastic. Her blond hair looked dyed, her boobs looked surgical, and I think that she even wore contacts. And she was really clingy, irritating. But never mean.

Max would come into my office and bring me lunch. She was sad, and she was suspicious. I would be, too; Evangeline and I looked close. But we were just friends. I didn't talk to Max for weeks. We avoided each other, and slept in different parts of the house. Then one day she came into the office, looking so hot that it wasn't fair to the rest of the females, and gave me a verbal slap in the face. The next night, I lost her.

It was my fault. All of it.

I went back to the couch with Max. She looked awkward, shifting her weight. "Is that—," her voice cracked, "Is that your girlfriend?"

I tugged the blanket tighter around her. "No," I said. "You're my girlfriend."

She shook her head and took a sip of hot chocolate. "No, I'm not." She set the cup down. "I'm just staying here until I can get on my feet." She looked at the door. "Something happened with her, huh. That's why we broke up, right? I read my own text messages to that Ella girl. You cheated on me. It was with her, right?"

She was smiling, like this was one huge joke to her.

"Max, listen to me." She was getting up to leave, but I grabbed her waist and forced her to look at me. "Shut the fuck up and listen to me. When we were in high school, you dated this guy named Sam. I hated that bastard so much. And he talked like he only wanted to get into your pants, so one day I beat the shit out of him. And you guys broke up, you and I got together, and then he was dating this girl named Lissa. They both hated us so much. They always did shit. Well Sam, he's the one who...attacked you.

"And then we broke up because of this huge misunderstanding, and you moved away, so did I. Then we got back together after awhile because I just...couldn't...be without you, and we were perfect and happy. I had a job, and my coworker, this woman named Evangeline Chevalier. We're friends. And then Evangeline, she kissed me, and you flipped out, and we didn't talk for weeks. But I told her that we were just friends. And that's what we ARE. And Evangeline, she just...she's just annoying."

Max looked at me. "So Sam attacked me. What of his girlfriend, Lissa?"

I shrugged. "She and I had our thing. I have a thing for redheads."

She looked away. I reached over and took a strand of her hair, one that looked red with her dark brown. I dangled it in front of her face and she giggled.

"Lissa never liked you, Max. Complete opposites. She was preppy and a Popsicle stick. You're curvy and bad ass. And she always wanted me, and you always had me." She let a smile go. "She was constantly mean to you. But the guys liked _you, _and once you kicked her ass." I reached over and tugged on her cheek. "Because you were jealous. She was my girlfriend."

"Lissa...I'll look her up on facebook, see what competition I have," she said with a giggle and a wink. It was sad that she was totally kidding. She reached over and grabbed my laptop, setting it on her lap. She opened facebook and went into the search box. She typed in Lissa, and looked at me, asking her last name.

"Lissa Chevalier."

Max was adorable, sticking her tongue out to the side of her mouth slightly as she spelled it out slowly. She clicked search and clicked on the first one that popped up. Lissa hadn't updated anything in years. Not her photos, her statuses, her notes. She was always a social networking freak. This was odd.

I looked at her profile picture: She was flipping off the camera, smiling. Lissa Chevalier. Lissa Chevalier, who hated Max's guts. Lissa Chevalier, who slept with my best friend. Lissa Chevalier, who made our lives a living hell. Lissa Chevalier.

Evangeline Chevalier.


	29. Chapter 29

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

When you have forgotten most of your life, sure, it's like a second chance, or whatever, but then it's really fucking frustrating, too. Trust, for example, is something that has to build up over years, and has to form slowly and gradually. And since I don't remember SHIT, who should I trust? I've decided on this Fang dude, because, well, all my stuff is at his house and he showed me these pictures and things, and plus, we just have this kind of _bond._ Like, you know how dogs sniff each other's butts, then they see if their cool or not? Well, I didn't even have to sniff his butt (although, he has a really nice butt, I wouldn't mind getting closer to it), I just knew that we were cool. The dating part, eh, I didn't know about that yet, because whenever he brought it up it was like, well, a random creeper could say that he was my boyfriend and that would be that. I don't know. It would just be kind of weird.

Another thing: Just because I forgot stuff, doesn't mean I'm not human. Like, I know how to walk and run and be sarcastic and go pee and stuff like that. I don't go around saying, "GOO GOO GA GA MOTHER FUCKERS!" just because I was unfortunate and forgot everything. I know my words. I know myself.

Also, about Fang, that's a weird ass name, but it's fitting. He doesn't have a Fang or anything, to, like, suck my blood (though I can't say I would mind), but he's all dark and stuff. I mean, when you hear the name "Fang" you obviously don't think of, like, rainbows, so it's just fitting. And it doesn't sound weird when I say it or anything. It's just like, "Yo, Fang." not "Yo, Fa-fa-fang—goddammit, why can't you just have a _normal_ name?"

So that's all cool.

Back to trusting.

I read my own messages to Ella, and did an investigation (I felt like the coolest kid on the playground), like I checked my check-in time to the hospital, then when the messages were sent, and stuff like that, and I was like, eh, if I told her all this drama with my boyfriend, then I must trust her, right? So yeah. But I don't live with her or anything, so we just text. Which is okay. Texting is cool. Except the friggin' girl, says LOL after every word, which is irritating.

Everyone else, I don't really care about. Eh.

Fang's super hot. I'm serious. It's insane. Like, he wakes up in the morning, and he comes to check on me (awwwwwww...) and there's scruff on his chin, and I'm swooning, not that I'll ever say so. He has amazing, silky, black hair, and beautiful eyes, and he's just perfect. So I guess that's a plus: I'm not living with an Ogre.

And so, my life, while it kind of sucked that I didn't remember anything, was doing okay. Though I kind of treated Fang shitty, just because while I trusted him, I didn't want _him_ to know that I trusted him. Also, sometimes I didn't.

Then the barbie showed up.

They talked a bit, he was very dismissive, then she kissed him, and left.

And while I'd been telling him that we weren't dating, I was still like: WHAT THE FUCK? Because, I mean, he was always trying things with me, and that just wasn't right. For her. Or me. Trust, SEVERED. Like my heart.

Just kidding. I'm not that fragile. I was just kind of pissed.

I asked if she was his girlfriend, he said no, he told me of our "romantic past", blah blah blah, I looked the girl up on facebook. The one that hated me in high school and dating my rapist. Coinkidink? I think _not. _The girl, she was pretty, I kind of thought she looked like the new, Evangeline, but didn't think much of it.

And then...

Dun. Dun. Dun.

They share last names.

And I will repeat: COINKIDINK? I THINK FUCKING **_NOT._**

Welcome to present day.

Fang, he flipped out. It was actually insanely cute, because he was pacing, and pulling on his hair, and closing his eyes, and I sipped my hot chocolate, then very calmly, because I rock, looked up the other chick on Facebook. This Evangeline girl. Same exact features. And so.

Yup. They were the same girl.

I pulled Fang, by his hand, back beside me on the couch, flipped down the laptop, and we discussed things. Maturely. Like adults. Slowly, and calmly, we discussed our options.

Yeah fucking right!

"Fang, what the hell are we gonna do? I mean, she—they're...OH MY GOD! She was trying to drag you away, so that the sicko could get back at me, and it was all for your revenge, but then...well, if she was _my_ enemy, then she was doing it to get back at me. But then, it's like, who would be okay with their boyfriend going out and having sex with someone else? Not consensual sex, it was rape, but sex nonetheless, and so...BUT WAIT! Maybe she thought that if _her _boyfriend was with _me,_ then—"

He put his hand over my mouth. I licked it, and he shuddered, but didn't move. "Let's go to the police."

Hot, caring, _and_ mature.

I really was starting to like this freak.

And so, the next week, after more investigation, we went to the police. I won't discuss that, because it was pretty long and boring. Fang did most of the talking, I fell asleep and had to be shaken awake a few times. They didn't answer any of our questions, just took note of things. They said that I should be in protection or something? But I was awake for that part, and was like, "Um, I can defend myself, bitch," because she was a girl, and I could defend myself. And plus, she was eying Fang like he was candy, which I didn't fancy.

Hee hee, that rhymes.

Fang said, "That won't be necessary; I'll be with her at all times," and while I shot him a glare, I was really looking forward to that. Because if he was with me, he couldn't be with any psycho barbies or hot po-po officers. Or with any of the other girls that were throwing themselves at him.

The police began leading their investigation. Fang called the family. I fell asleep again. When we got home, I needed to take a bath. I could do it by myself now, but Fang always insisted that he be there, just in case. Just in case what? The bath shark attacked? I think he just liked seeing me naked. But, either way, I let him be there, and we talked and stuff. And he dried me off, always. It was so _nice._ Like, not perverted, just caring. I felt loved.

Which he told me so many times.

He _always _told me that he loved me.

Poor kid. He always told me, and I could never say it back. Though I was convinced that I probably did. But could I speak for my old self?

Then, he would dress me, and tuck me underneath the covers, kiss my forehead, and go to sleep on the couch. The same was for tonight. Except at the end, my big fat mouth opened, on its own accord. I did not WANT it to open, but there it went, spitting words out faster than possible. What a bitch.

"Fang...just sleep on the bed. I mean, really. It's your bed. And it doesn't have to be sexual. Just...I want you to be comfortable. So just sleep in here, honey. I don't mind. You do so much for me, the least I could do is let you sleep good."

He froze in the doorway, and then backtracked, tore off his shirt and jeans, slipped into his flannel pants, and got in next to me. My jaw was open.

It's weird. I've lived with him for a few months, but still, I had not seen him without a shirt. Really. And mother of god. I was now taking back my offer, because I wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself if I slept next to him, with his chest and abs and arms exposed. The boy was beautiful. Without thinking, AT ALL, I reached out and ran my hand down his chest. Like to see if they were real or something. That's what it looked like.

Fang gasped, and when I pulled away, he held my hand and twined our fingers. I blushed red. Slowly, apprehensively, he moved in closer, and spread his other fingers across my hip. I was wearing a flowy midriff top to bed with short shorts, so his fingers scorched my bare skin. He brought my fingers to his lips, and kissed each knuckle. It wasn't corny, or dumb, or cliché, it was perfection. He moved the other hand up to my ribs, and stared into my eyes.

This was a movie moment. Slow music was playing in the background. I loved him. Deeply.

Holy shit.

"Maximum, I have a confession," the gorgeous boy whispered.

My heart began to race.

"Mmkay," I whispered back, scared.

His touch was lighting me on fire.

"I think you're pretty cute," he smiled. "Actually, you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Also, I kind of like you..." I giggled. "No, I'm _madly _in love with you."

He went serious. I cleared my throat. "I'm going to be completely honest with you. I fucked up. Big time. I didn't talk to you. I ignored you. I didn't appreciate you. I was just a really, really shitty boyfriend." He took a deep breath. "I know you don't remember, but I'm telling you because you need to make the decision. I'm not going to pretend it never happened and not let you have a choice. I mean...I'm a fuck up. I make so many mistakes, and you're perfect." I mentally snorted. "I have problems. But despite all that, I'm completely, madly in love with you. _So_ madly in love with you. It's unhealthy."

He was beautiful. Those _eyes._

"Please forgive me," he whispered.

"It's okay," I whispered.

He smiled, and I swooned, letting my own smile reign over my features.

"I have to ask you a question," he continued.

I was _so _done with the heavy conversations, but I still nodded.

"Will you go out on a date with me Friday night?"

I smiled wider.

"Yeah." He smiled. And then giggled. Oh my baby jesus, the sound was adorable. "Where will you take me?"

He bit his lip.

"Dunno, I didn't plan that far ahead," he answered.

I giggled, too. "Alright, but you're paying."

Our smiles, they were sunlight.

"Duh. It's a date, knucklehead." He was a lame-o. "Goodnight, Maximum."

"Night, Fang."

I flipped over, and he let go of me. I missed the warmth, but didn't mention it. He kept his distance, being polite.

In the morning was a completely different story.

He was ALL up on me. Our legs were twined. His face was pressed into my neck. One hand was on my boob, the other was high on my thigh, holding me against him. His breathing was deep, a snore caught in his breath. And Fang Jr. was pressed into my ass. As soon as I went to move away, he stopped snoring and clutched me tighter for a second, before releasing me with an, "Aw, shit."

I flipped around and smiled, then smirked when he pulled the sheet up to cover past his hips. I sat up at the edge of the bed. "I'll make breakfast, you...take care of that."

He smiled but blushed.

Shadows haunted me in the kitchen. They flashed across the doors and walls and counters.

I froze.

"Hello?" I called out. Nothing answered. Things got creepy. No...he was in jail. I let out a breath, and started toward the fridge, only to have another shadow, getting closer.

I screamed. Like a little girl.

It was a terrible sound. It could shatter glass and burst out ear drums. It could frighten children. Kill mice.

Fang ran out, a towel wrapped around his hips, hair wet, looking so sexy that I almost forgot about the danger and jumped him in the middle of the kitchen, but the shadows were too haunting. "There's something..."

I was shaking.

He wrapped his arms around me tightly, kissing my hair and whispering to me, "Shhh...baby, everything's okay...I got you...shhh, I got you..." He held me until I stopped shaking. He'd gotten all of my clothes wet, but I was safe. He was here, and sexy as hell, and I was _safe._ The shadows turned into sunshine that was shining through our windows.

"Fuck, you got me all wet," I muttered, looking down at myself.

Fang smirked. "Wanna join me? You're already wet, after all."

Embarrassingly, it took me awhile to get it. When I _finally _did, I blushed and looked away quickly. "Um...I should..."

His fingers lifted my chin to look into his eyes. "Hey, I was kidding." Now I was offended, and apparently he saw it. "Not that I _wouldn't_ want to take a shower with you. You're really fucking hot. I was just...when I asked you...it was a joke..."

I smiled. "I'm gonna make us some breakfast," I said, and watched his ass and back muscles flex as he walked away.

**FANG POV:**

I'm not conceited.

Okay, so maybe a little. But not _all_ the time. So let me have this moment of conceited-ness, please.

I'm really fucking romantic.

So Max, she looked insanely beautiful on Friday night. A short midnight blue dress. Curled hair. Natural makeup. High heels. Her legs were sin. Her breasts were larger than ever. I slipped behind her and tied a silk blindfold over her eyes. Then, without a warning, I scooped her up and carried her, bridal style, to my truck. When she was first released from the hospital, she was so skinny and frail. Now, she was back, and hotter than ever. Curvy. Full. God, that ass. So, dur, she was heavier, but she was the sexiest goddess in the universe. And plus, I had my muscles, so I barely had to try.

Not saying that in a conceited way, because she weighed, like, 130, but...you know. Just saying.

Anyway, in the car, I held her hand over the center console. I'm gonna sound like a pussy, but I'd forgotten how good it felt just to hold her hand. While walking through the grocery store. While watching movies with the family. While at the carnival. While in line at amusement parks. While in the car. While at the park. At night. I'd just forgotten how good it felt to hold onto her. The softness of her palm, the pads of her fingers. She was perfection, every. Single. Inch.

I'd just forgotten.

Then, when we arrived, I held her hand and led her to the middle of the park. I told her to stay put, then settled a blanket on the floor, so it was spread out. I told her to sit. She complained about how her butt hurt. I ignored it, jogged over to the projector, and pressed play. Then I slid down next to her, and pulled off her blindfold.

We were in the park, watching a movie. It was only us.

She turned to me. "Our first date," I explained, moving closer. I slipped my arm around her hips and she leaned her head on my shoulder. Slowly, she leaned forward and kissed my cheek, whispering thank you. I knew she was cold, so I took off my jacket and draped it across her thighs.

The movie started, with the sex scene. Max giggled. "Pervert," she whispered.

I kissed the crown of her head. "Same movie."

When _that_ was over, and I'd opened a bag of chips and shared some chocolate that I'd brought. We probably looked pretty stupid, in fancy clothes at a park, but whatever. I dropped dozen's of kisses on her throughout the movie. On her head, her cheek, her nose, her neck, her jaw. Not her mouth. We hadn't done that yet. At the end of the movie, we danced. I held her close. I needed her close.

Then, I took her out to dinner. I took her to the movie pretty early, so we still had time. She was more beautiful when I could see her in the light. We talked about everything. We laughed. She smiled. Everything was good. She latched onto my arm on the way to the car, and my hand placed itself on the small of her back. Moving in closer, my fingers spidered on her hip, and my thumb traced the bone.

The night moved too quickly, and then we were at our apartment. I let us in, and threw the keys in a bowl, then locked the door. I slipped off my shoes, then my jacket, and was going to sit on the couch and watch some TV, when I noticed that Max was still at the door, looking at me.

"Um..." I chewed my lip. "Are you okay?"

She snapped out of her daze and nodded quickly. "Yeah, sorry, I...um..."

I walked over to her and brushed some hair out of her face. "Max, talk to me. Did you not enjoy yourself—?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, no, no, I loved it! It was amazing!"

I studied her. I got lost in her eyes. "Tell me," I urged.

Then she leaned forward, closed her eyes, and our lips met. Hot. Beautiful. Wanting. Needing. Perfection. Home.

I was home.


	30. Chapter 30

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

Kissing Fang is like the joy you feel when you open up the freezer on a terrible day, and see that your ultimate favorite ice cream has magically appeared in the middle of the night. The excited tingling in your tummy as you lick your lips, the warming of your heart as you look it over, make sure that it's real, and then the cold on your fingertips when you reach out, and—yep, your favorite ice cream, is, in fact, there, and is going to take all of your troubles away as soon as you take one...little...bite.

Yeah, well, I took more than one bite.

More like a bajillion bites, actually.

Okay, at first, I was nervous. There were so many bad possibilities. Rejection. Grossness (totally not likely). Missing his lips and accidentally kissing his eyeball or something. So at first, it was soft. Enough to not get caught up in it so bad that you wouldn't ever be able to pull away. Just...feather light. A tiny little taste of what soon became my favorite flavor in the world.

Fang's lips.

Yes. It was amazing.

So, yes, at first I was shy. Timid. Then, I could feel the heat of one hand, pressing into my back. The other scooping around the back of my neck and bringing me closer. His body, pressed against my own. _Everything was perfect._ It was familiar, in a way. Maybe it was just the way that he moved with me, he knew how to do it. Everything felt beautiful, but it also felt like it had been done so many times before. I knew him, he knew me. I moved this way, he moved that way. His tongue touched mine, and my tongue responded. His fingers brushed through my hair, and mine grabbed his. I breathed out, and he breathed in. One of his hands slid up my torso, until it was resting on my ribs, his thumb just close enough to my breast to get my heart beating that much faster. And his hands, they were freezing on my hot skin.

Hot and cold. Ice on fire.

He moved his kisses to my neck, and I moaned. I breathed deeply, then couldn't exhale. I was lost in a whirlpool of emotions, of passion, of hot. And I couldn't breathe, but I couldn't stop kissing him: pressing my mouth on his, or on his neck, or on his ear. And he breathed into my mouth, hot and heavy, and I found it in myself to inhale enough to survive.

"Max," he breathed. "Oh my god, that was..."

"Incredible," I said, and rubbed my hand down his chest. He smiled, and trapped it there. "Kind of random, sorry..."

There I was, being nervous again.

"No, no, no, don't _ever_ say sorry." He swept hair out of my eyes. "That was amazing. Don't ever apologize...for something like that." I nodded, and he smiled. "Come to bed?"

Too fast.

Jesus, too fast.

He must have seen my expression. "No, no! Not...like that. I'm exhausted. You have to be, too. Let's just...sleep." Then he looked into my eyes. "Let me hold you."

And he didn't say the end of his sentence.

**FANG POV:**

_And never let you go._

I brushed my fingertips down her arms until I got to her hands, and then I tugged her backward into our room. She let go of my hands to tug her dress over her head. I was shocked—she was usually nervous about this type of stuff. But she just turned so that her back was facing me (which, trust me, was _not_ a bad view), and got out clothing from the drawers. She slipped on a pair of short shorts, then reached back to unclasp her bra before sliding on a tee shirt. I stripped down to my boxers, and folded back the covers to welcome her. She nervously slid inside of the bed, and I moved the comforter over her, held her back against my front, and then reached over to shut off the lights.

In the morning, she was gone.

For a brief moment, I freaked out, but then I heard the sizzling of bacon in the kitchen, and my entire body relaxed. I stayed in bed for a few minutes more before slipping on some flannel pajama pants and heading over to her. Max's back was to me, leaning over the stove top, moving a utensil in a pan. I slipped my arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck, then perched myself into one of the kitchen chairs.

"Good morning," she called over her shoulder.

"Mornin'," I replied, "it smells delicious."

She turned toward me to smile. "Eggs, bacon, and pancakes."

She was the best.

"Mmmmmmm," I moaned. A few minutes later, she slid a plate in front of me, then sat in her own chair. We ate in a comfortable silence, then she went to pick up my plate, but I stopped her. "I'll do it."

She smiled and handed me the plates.

While I washed, she sat on the counter, legs dangling, kicking me every once and awhile. Then, she moved closer, and began to run her hands through my hair. It sent the good chills up my spine, and she moved her hand to my neck. She cupped the back of it, and guided me toward her. I wiped my hands on a towel, then stood between her legs. She scooted forward and touched my cheeks, then leaned forward and kissed me. I slid my hands around her waist, pulling her closer, as I parted my lips and took her in.

I loved her. Always have, always will.

She kissed my neck, up to my ear, then back to my lips. She bit my bottom lip, and then soothed it with her tongue. She was heaven.

"Fang?" she asked, then leaned forward to kiss me.

"Yeah, babe?"

Another kiss.

"What are we?"

I stopped kissing her and grew nervous. "I...um...well, I was thinking that you were my..."

She cocked her head to the side. "Girlfriend?" I nodded, and she wrapped her arms around me. "M'kay, cool."

And we returned to our previous activity.

"Honey, come here," Max called, and I trotted into the living room. I fell onto the couch beside her and kissed the crown of her head.

"T'sup?"

She nodded to the screen. "That's so sad," she said, looking at the frail bones of kids. "Like, it's hard to realize what you have, until you see what others don't, you know? Like, I have food, and a boyfriend, and a house, and a brain, and..."

"I know what you mean," I assured her, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Realizing what you have."

Reaching forward, Max picked up the clicker and shutting off the TV. She turned to look at me and cupped my face in her soft palms. "I'm glad I have you."

I slipped my arms around her, kissing a tear that fell from her eye, and then turning my face and kissing her palm. "Maximum, you are the best thing in my life."

She ran her thumb over my bottom lip, then whispered, "And you in mine."

Then one night, she told me that she loved me.

It was at such an odd time, too.

We were eating popcorn and watching a movie. She reached over and grabbed a huge, unreasonable handful of popcorn from the bowl in my lap and started stuffing her face. When she reached for the bowl again, I moved it away from her reach. I mean, I didn't want her to have a heart attack or something. She stretched out and kicked me in the gut, so I started chucking popcorn kernels at her head. It fuckin' hurt, and just because I was madly in love with her didn't mean I was going to take shit and not defend myself.

That evolved into a huge popcorn-throwing war.

Fun.

Then, somehow, she ended up on the floor, hands clenched across her stomach, laughing her butt off.

I threw a kernel at her pretty little head.

She caught it, put it in her mouth, swallowed, and said, "I love you, babe."

And I was in so much shock that the kernel in my mouth fell out and onto the floor.

Romantic. I know.

She giggled, getting on her knees, and squished my face between her palms. Leaning forward, she kissed the tip of my nose, then pecked my lips.

"I."

Kiss.

"Love."

Kiss.

"You."

And there it was.

**MAX POV:**

Then, one night, neither he nor I could stand it any longer.

The want was too much.

The passion.

The love.

The happiness.

Everything seemed to explode, all at once, and when we kissed, our clothes were shed, our feelings were put out in the barest display. Our buttons, and our beings were undone. Never had either of us been more vulnerable. Never had either of us been so...deeply...in love.

Never

had

I

felt

anything

like

this.

Not since I woke up, and not before that.

Nothing would compare.

**FANG POV:**

There was nothing more beautiful than that night.

Now, before you go around, pointing, screaming "PUSSY!" let me tell you, you've never been in the place that I was. Never felt that bubbling in your chest, by just looking into someone's eyes. Never had your heart squeeze, at the words that left someone's lips.

Never, have you _ever,_ got to sleep with Maximum Ride in your arms.

Naked.

Yes, I'm not 100% girl. I still have hormones. _Male_ hormones. Testosterone.

And Jesus, it'd been so long. To be with her...like that. It'd been far too long. That I'd been able to feel anything like that. To be able to feel _her_. All of her. With me. Love.

It. Was. Beautiful.

And afterward, as she tucked into my chest, and her body was molded with mine, and it felt like nothing could ever go wrong. Ever again. It felt like I would eternally stay in this insane, overwhelming, perfect bliss.

Yeah, well, reality check.

I couldn't hide her forever. I knew this. I knew that, regardless of if she wanted to or not, she had to find the rest of the family. She had to know them. Valencia, she'd raised Max, she'd raised _all_ of us, and so I'm pretty sure she wasn't happy that she did all this stuff, and yet her daughter was living and remembering her _boyfriend_ and not her _mother._

So we took a trip.

"FFAANNNGGG," Max whined, her usual self, pulling on my arm, dragging herself. "Don't make me goooo. I feel so terribllleeee..."

Yeah, yeah. Whatever.

"Max, stop being a whiny baby. Walk. You're a big girl."

She pouted, but caught up to me and grabbed my hand. I smiled at her, sliding in my fingers, realizing that they were made for the spaces between hers.

I was corny. But it was true.

I rang to doorbell, leaning over to kiss Max's temple, to soothe her.

When Valencia opened the door, she looked like she was going to cry.

"Fang! Max! Oh, my god!" And she swept us into a huge hug. I felt Max squeeze my hand tighter. "I'm so glad you're here! What a surprise! I was just spreading some good news!"

This was me: **?**

Max looked the same.

"Oh, come in! Come in!"

The kids were _not_ as excited as Valencia. They all sat on the couches. Iggy and Ella had flown in (um, why didn't _I _get a call to the family meeting...?), and Iggy was pouting, his arms crossed on his chest. Ella looked bored. Nudge's mouth was twisted to the side. Gazzy pouted. Angel looked thoughtful.

And Jeb looked happy.

This was beyond weird.

And then, everyone's eyes settled on us, and we were attacked with hugs. Well, kiddos, I'm glad those frowns were turned upside down, but now I was bruised. Max was confused, really. And shocked. Nudge, to make things so much better, was talking and talking and talking about whatever she was talking about to Max, who didn't have any clue was she was talking about.

Too much talking.

Finally, we settled onto the couch. Iggy and I talked, and Max and Ella talked.

"So...are you guys, like, dating, or what?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess."

"So she remembers you?"

"No...just the stuff I told her. And I showed her pictures and stuff. But yeah, we're dating. And," I leaned in toward his ear, "we did it."

I felt like a teenager again.

_We did it._

I laughed.

"And it was amazing. And she loves me," I said, quietly. Iggy smiled in approval.

Then he said the weirdest thing ever.

"I'm proud of you."

My face scrunched up. "_Why_?"

He patted my shoulder. "Because, dude, you." He shoved a finger at my chest. "Are her savior."

This sounded like church. I turned to Max, and eavesdropped, instead of listening to Iggy and his dumbness.

"...yeah, well, he's been so great," Max said. My chest puffed up. "And I just...it feels so right."

Ella smiled. I'd forgotten how pretty she was. I almost turned back to Iggy and said _I'm proud of you_. "He really loves you."

Max blushed. "Yeah...it's weird...I don't know why..."

PSH!

"Are you serious!" I opened my mouth without thinking about it, and both girls turned to me. "You're so—"

"So, Max, Fang, want to hear the news?"

I sighed, and turned to Valencia. The rest of the kids sank into the couches further and frowned.

Then she said it. "I'm getting married! To Jeb!"

Joy.

"Oh," I said. "Well, congrats, you guys!"

I was being mature. And the kids blew up at me. _OMG, how could you say that! It's terrible! Faanngggg, she can't get married—!_And all this immature BS. I mean, Jeb, he wasn't anything spectacular, like a secret spy, or the creator of the machine gun, or a pro at Black Ops, but he was a good guy. And I'm sure that he was happy about marrying Valencia, so what right did they have to rain on his parade?

"Guys, stop," I said. "Let them be happy."

Everyone's mouths dropped open.

At the same time.

Creepiest shit ever.

"I mean, really," I continued, breaking up the awkwardness. "They're perfect for each other." I figured this out as I said it. "And you should be happy that she's happy, and that they have a good thing going. And Jeb, he's great. Just...cut them some slack, dudes."

I added the _dudes_ so that I didn't seem like the kiss up. I was still on the kid's side.

And slowly, very slowly, they all agreed with me.

"Alright," Max said later, slipping off her shoes and cannonballing onto the couch next to me. "I have no idea what the hell's up with Jeb—I mean, I can vaguely remember having dinner with him, and him being nice and everything, but I don't really know why they hate him so much—but I think that it's great of you, defending their relationship and stuff. Sweet."

She leaned over and kissed my temple.

I was in too much shock to respond.

She was beginning to remember.

* * *

NOTE: Story's almost over. Remember: I'm a busy, working college student and I also have my own stories to tend to, so pardon me if I don't put these chapters up immediately (it's a tedious process that I'm not very fond of).


	31. Chapter 31

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**MAX POV:**

Fuck Valentine's Day, man.

I haven't had the best experiences with the holiday. It's just a sick thing. I mean, really. We have a day to celebrate the New Year, like the one that's starting is going to be so much better than the one that was occurring, like, _one day_ before, when really, it's going to be exactly the same. Then we have St. Patrick's day, because some genius decided to create a day where you went around pinching people and wearing green, because green is just that amazing so that we should have an entire day dedicated to it. Palm Sunday is just stupid. I mean, I get it, the whole religion thing, but _really_? MUST we have a day to celebrate the day _before_ Easter? Honestly, people. Pre-Easter Day? Because Easter itself isn't dumb enough. Now, I honestly don't think that the religious aspect of the holiday is dumb. In no way! But even the people that _aren't_ religious believe in dumb things like Easter bunnies and such, that have nothing better to do AT ALL than go around and give stupid kids candy baskets with fluffy shit and chocolate eggs. Because us Americans don't have enough trouble with obesity as is, right?

Then there's groundhog day. There are just no words to express the utter stupidity of it. I won't even get started on this.

Let's move on, shall we?

Mother's day and Father's Day. Possibly the only reasonable holiday that we Americans have. I mean sure, the majority of the time parents _suck._ But still, they put up with a lot of crap. They deserve some credit. The Fourth of July. Now, while I think that it's a little bit overboard to go all explosive and stuff and go to the beach and have house parties and get drunk off of our asses, I guess it's understandable: we're free. But honestly, would it be that bad to still be under Britain's power? I don't know—they have really awesome accents, dude. Ah, and then Christmas. Christmas is stupid. People that believe in Jesus, go ahead, celebrate his birth. By all means. This is wonderful. But the people that _don't_? You're just being greedy! Celebrating a day just so that you can receive gifts and candy and decorate a tree. That's bullshit! Bull! Shit! Thanksgiving Day is okay, I suppose. You're thankful. We get it. But, in my amazing opinion, I think that since we have this holiday, this ENTIRE holiday about turkeys and getting obese because we eat such insane amounts, that this should just cover all the rest of the holidays! Why must we have a bajillion days to celebrate everything, when we can just have one to cover everything?

We don't have to.

This is the sick-in-the-head-ness of us Americans.

But, in all of my hatred toward every freaking holiday that we have, Valentine's Day is the absolute worst. It's stupid. It's dumb. There's no purpose of it except TORTURE. Since it is the big day tomorrow (gag) I will do a full analysis on it.

Valentine's Day sucks if:

you're ugly

you're unpopular

you dress terribly

your personality is repulsive

nobody likes you

Because, if you are any of these options, you will get NO Valentine's, and are thus lonely and miserable. You watch all the people that are

pretty

popular

cool

stylish

funny

and that everyone loves

get roses and chocolates and surprises and suckers and all this other shit, while you sit alone, with NOTHING from ANYBODY. And then you are this huge loser. And you have to watch all the pretty girls get bouquets of roses and cute little cards that make everyone go "awwwww", and have them call out everyone's names but yours when the cheerleaders enter your homeroom class and hand out those cheap little candy grams, which nobody has bothered to send you.

So now you're thinking that I've never gotten a candy gram.

Wrong.

But I feel so bad for the people that don't.

Every year since they started doing that pathetic thing, I've gotten at least % candy grams. Ella would always give me them, and then Nudge, and Gazzy. Never Angel, since she's never in school with me. Iggy always sent them to me, and then Fang. His were always weird. You know, he'd send me a flower or a candy, with a little note that just said, To Max, from Fang. And then in the little spot where you were supposed to write a message, he'd just say something lame, like: _Hey,_ or _Happy Valentine's Day_, or _This Holiday sucks ass_, or _have a nice day_, or _good luck in school_. Then, as we got older, and his mind grew sick, he'd say stuff like: _Nice legs_, or _you're hot_, or _Sam's a dickhead._

Yes.

Stop gasping, please. The lack of oxygen will give you a migraine.

I remember. Like, almost everything.

It wasn't anything magical, like a woke up one day and remembered everything, or we went to a little hole-in-the-wall shop where an old lady performed cool shit on me. I just started to do it, on my own. Like, I'd go back to try and think of something, or something would come up in topic, and whoa, I remember that! And soon, it became a natural thing. Every day, I'd remember something more. And some of the stuff (*cough* Fang *cough*) wasn't all that pleasant, but whatever. I'm over it.

Back to Valentine's, the stupid ass day.

In class, the pretty girls, the ones that honestly probably had rocks in their big heads as opposed to the silly little thing called a _brain_, always got their names called and they'd go up, all giddy, and tell all of their friends who the boys were that sent them stuff, like it was this huge honor to get a piece of candy that cost, like, 25 cents. And then there's the girls that aren't really popular, and they're honestly kind of ugly and freaky looking, but they get candies from their ugly and freaky looking friends. Then the poor, poor girls who don't get anything, and they kind of pretend not to care, while they're dying inside.

Here's the point: this Valentine's Day, maybe, just maybe won't be that bad.

Because I have Fang. I have someone to celebrate the day that is dedicated to love with. And he's amazing. And though probably nobody will believe me, I honestly wouldn't care if he did nothing, and we just got to be together for this incredibly stupid day. And we got to hold hands when we walked down the streets, and kiss when we felt like it, and whisper that we loved each other, just because we did. Because while the holiday is so, so stupid, love is _not._

But, of course, he did do something on Valentine's Day.

I woke up alone on February 14th. Not the greatest feeling ever, rolling over to find nobody there, just cold sheets. I blindly searched for him for awhile, only finding something paper on his pillow. I opened my eyes slowly and looked at the slightly crushed folded paper rose in my hand. Looking around for no reason in particular, I opened (after awhile of _trying)_ the rose and there was a note from him that read: **_Good morning, beautiful. Happy Valentine's Day. There's breakfast on the table. I love you. Fang._**

I looked at the clock to see that it was already one.

So I pulled my lazy ass out of bed and opened our bedroom door, nearly passing out with what I saw. Hundreds—thousands, even—of folded paper hearts strung from the ceiling. Paper hearts from magazines, from colored paper, from atlases, from napkins. Dodging these, I went to the table, where, sure enough, there was a huge breakfast, along with a bouquet of red roses, with a little note sticking out of it. After I heated up the plate of food in thee microwave since it was cold since I woke up so late, I plucked the note out as I took a huge, un-girly bite out of my omelet. It read: **_Go to the cafe on Melbourne at 4 o Clock._**

This gave me plenty of time, and so much time to _wait. _I glanced at Fang's gift, which I thought was super lame. It was a guitar, since I knew that he'd played music when we were a little younger, and a pair of tickets to the Kings of Leon concert, and to Third Eye Blind. He'd mentioned liking them awhile back, so.

I was planning on seeing Fang later, and so I dressed up in this super cute dress that I'd bought not too long before. The top was just black, and then a purple ribbon tied underneath my chest and there started a floral green, blue, and purple skirt that kinda flared out. I wore it with these cute heels that were slightly hard to walk in, and light makeup, my hair curly and down, because while I wanted to impress him, I didn't care _that_ much.

When I arrived at _the cafe on Melbourne at 4 o clock_ (it's super close, so I just walked), I was confused. He wasn't there. _My Valentine _wasn't there! So I sat around for, like, ten minutes looking like a lover-deprived girl searching for someone in a _cafe_ until a man came up to me, dressed in a coffee splattered apron with sugar and stuff on it. With a thick French accent he set a firm hand on my shoulder and said, "Nicholas!"

So even in this adorable dress, I looked like a dude.

Happy fucking Valentine's Day.

"He told me give you this," the guy continued, handing me a chocolate croissant, with a napkin underneath it. "Enjoy!" I nodded at him, and ate the friggin' croissant, slightly frustrated. Happy Valentine's Day, babe. I bought you a croissant that tastes slightly shitty and you didn't even get to see me. I love you.

But I saw on the backside of the napkin was another note, in his masculine writing. **_There's a driver outside in a black suburban. He's slightly ugly with a uni-brow. That's the guy. Get in the truck. Don't ask questions. Just trust me, babe._**

This was getting kind of freaky, I wasn't gonna lie. But, since I did trust him, I thanked the weird French guy and walked out of the shop, stuffing the last of my croissant into my mouth as I did so. There was the black suburban, and, sure enough, being driven by the ugly guy with a uni-brow. I opened up the back seat and before I even shut the door, he was driving away. I used this time, while he was driving to god knows where, to fix my lipstick and such. When we got there, the driver..._Frank_, his name tag said, turned around to give me a small smile. He was so creepy. I decided that it was time to exit the vehicle, and found myself looking at...

drumroll, please...

a BENCH.

Yes. A bench. One of those ugly and dirty ones that people stick their gum on and homeless people sleep on. First, I looked aaalll around it for anymore notes that Fang had been leaving for me, but I found nothing. I didn't sit down, but instead furiously opened up my purse and pulled out my cell phone, tapping out a message to Fang.

**_Alright, wtf? What should I do with this bench? Is it my replacement boyfriend?_**

I could almost hear Fang laughing through his reply.

**_Yeah, actually. Happy Valentine's Day, baby. XOXOXO (: 3_**

I didn't laugh.

After another five minutes of me ignoring him, he shot me another text.

**_Look up._**

I did.

It was one of those messages that planes do in the sky. It was already fading a little bit, but I could still make out the words. It said: **_Flower shop on Artesia._** With a stupid little heart next to it.

Okay, fine. So maybe it was a _liitttle _bit cute. Just a little.

With a huff I made my way toward the flower shop, which was only a two minute walk, but seemed like hours in the shoes. I opened up the door, which made a _ding_ with my presence, and looked around as it swung closed behind me. The girl behind the counter was smacking her gum, obviously annoyed with having to work on Valentine's day. But, based on her terrible attitude, her barf green colored hair, and red contacts in her eyes, she probably didn't have a Valentine anyway.

I made my way over to her. Whoa, those contacts were scary as fuck. I felt like she was trying to posses my soul or something. Instead of telling her this, I just said, "Max Ride?"

I had caught her staring at my rack. Awkward.

Her eyes flickered up to mine again. "And I care _why?_"

Well, shit, Fang.

"Um...did my boyfriend drop something off?"

I did this to tell her that I was straight. And so that I could get the hell out of there. Pronto.

"How would I know? Do I look like Albert fucking Einstein to you?"

No, you look like a complete freak.

I sighed. "Black hair, tall, insanely hot?"

I did this to brag about my Valentine while she was lonely. And a complete bitch.

She opened up her mouth, but before she could snap something at me, another, much nicer looking lady came up and shoved her out of the way. She smiled brightly at me, showing some dimples. "Max Ride?"

I nodded with a smile.

The girl huffed.

"Veronica, go...trim the roses?"

Veronica left.

The lady bent down and came back up from behind the counter, holding a vase in her chubby hands. Then she reached down to get a box of chocolates. She slid them over to me, and I inhaled the scent of the roses with a satisfied smile. Delicious.

"Eat the chocolates," the lady urged me on, motioning to a bench inside of the shop. One that didn't look like it would smell of piss. I took a seat and put the chocolates on my lap, taking the first chocolate out of the box. After I ate it, while I reached down to get a second one (they were _really_ good), I saw that in the vacant space where the first chocolate was, was printed **_MAX._**

I proceeded to dump out the rest of the chocolates in the lid of it to see the whole message.

**_IMUM GO OUT SIDE AND FOL LOW THE ARROWS THAT ARE ON THE SIDE WALK._**

I thanked the nice lady and flipped off Veronica, who had returned to the front of the shop. The woman looked shocked. After I transferred the roses into a holdable paper bouquet and got all of the chocolates, I went outside to see freshly drawn chalk arrows in pink, little pink hearts surrounding each one on each square of sidewalk. It was obviously feminine, and I knew that Fang had some people working for him. I followed the arrows, which I found that eventually led to a _FUCKING FERRARI_. With a driver inside of it. This time, he wasn't ugly.

Actually, he was kind of hot. I wondered why he didn't have anything better to do on Valentine's Day than drive a chick around.

"Maximum Ride?" the hot guy asked, which was responded with a nod, because I couldn't form words as I was ogling the fucking magnificent vehicle.

I got into the passenger seat this time, because I wanted everyone to see that I was driving in a _FUCKING FERRARI,_ but the guy didn't drive away. Instead, he started digging in the center console. His hand finally came out with a red box, handing it over to me. Then he focused on the road and sped off, at amazing _FUCKING FERRARI _speeds. I opened the box.

Earrings. Diamond earrings.

I gasped, but the dude didn't seem to notice, pressing his foot harder on the gas pedal as we got to an abandoned street. I got slightly worried that he was kidnapping me, but hell, I had everything that I needed anyway! A fuck awesome car, earrings, chocolate, and roses!

But I needed Fang. Darn it.

The earrings were beautiful. The diamonds were square cut and gold rimmed, not too big and not too small. I wasn't one for flashy and girly things, but these were perfect. They were so _me_, and my heart fluttered. _He knows me._

Flipping down the mirror in the car, I put in the earrings, loving how they looked against my skin, knowing that they were from him. With a smile, I put the earrings that I'd had in before, black hearts, back into the case. Looking for some note, I took out what was holding the earrings, and saw a note written, surrounded by a hundred little hearts that were cut out from paper of different shades of pink. On the note, which was written on a piece of red paper, read: **_Go into the elevator up to the tenth floor._**

Sure enough, a few minutes later, we arrived at a huge office building, silver, and screaming _LA_. I took my time getting out of the beautiful car, and thanked the hot guy when I finally got out. I entered the building, which looked completely _dead_, other than the operating elevator and that the door was unlocked. I pushed the button on the elevator, and it arrived immediately. When I got in, I saw that the glass that was facing the outside was completely covered in pink spray paint, so that you couldn't see out. In work that an artist had obviously done, it said **_I LOVE YOU _**with a drawing of cupid shooting an arrow through a heart. I smiled and squealed, clutching the chocolates and roses to my chest, with the box of my old earrings in my purse.

On the tenth floor, the only light that was on was the small lamp on top of the secretary's desk. Looking around, I went over to it and read the note that was taped down to the marble desk. It read: **_Leave the building._**

And I thought it was kind of pointless for him to have me come up here in the first place, but then I saw a wrapped box, covered in red paper with a bow. On the tag, it said: **_Open and give it to the driver._**

After I rode the elevator back down and I walked out of the building, holding more things than I was capable of in my arms, I saw...

A Maserati.

A beautiful, black, shiny, wonderful _Maserati._

At first, I thought that I was hallucinating. Then it honked, getting my attention, and after I pinched myself, I walked over to it, staring with my jaw on the floor. After awhile of that, I slid into the passenger seat, handing the driver (an middle aged guy that was neither attractive nor ugly) the gift. He unwrapped it as I checked out the car, which was beautiful. It was a GPS, and he clicked a few buttons before setting it on the dash and driving off.

The sound that the car made as it sped down the road was orgasmic. Seriously.

When the car slowed down, I got ready to get out, just because I was so anxious to see Fang, not because I wanted to leave the Maserati. No. I wanted to live in the thing. _Forever._

It was this weird garden thing where the girl with the British accent told us that our_destination was on the right._ There were glow in the dark arrows drawn on the floor on the cement (the things Crayola comes up with these days, jeesh), which I followed enthusiastically, balancing my items in my arms. It was a pathway that cut between beautiful trees and flowers and other stuff. And then finally, _finally,_ I saw Fang.

He was perfect, dressed up in a _tuxedo_ (HOT!), standing there, smiling at me beautifully. Behind him was a pond that was lit by some kind of lights. The entire scene were lights strung over our heads, against the night, looking like little stars. I set down my things and ran as best as I could in the heels toward him, taking a huge leap. I wrapped my legs around his waist and his arms went around me as I showered his face with sloppy kisses.

"Oh my god! It was so beautiful...and the earrings...and the flowers...and the notes...and...so beautiful...and you, my god! And...I love you...I love you so much..."

He tried to kiss me back, tightening his hold on me so that I wouldn't fall as I closed my eyes and finally pressed my mouth onto his. He kissed me back with fervor, holding me close, letting one of his hands rest on my butt to hold me and the other into my hair.

I opened my eyes and took a huge gasp of air after making out like horny teenagers for what seemed like forever. "Baby, this day was wonderful. Thank you so much. I'm the luckiest girl in the world. I love you." I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his quickly. "I got you a gift, too. But it's at home, and it's, honestly, kind of lame anyway—"

As I was speaking, I finally took the chance to look around. I slid off of Fang and stopped breathing, looking out at the pond, which was lined with luscious plants and flowers. I stared at the water, lit, and looked at Fang, who was getting down onto his knee, then back at the blue water. Floating on the pond were white lights, lined up, taking up the surface of the water, spelling out two words. Two beautiful, wonderful, promising, life-changing words.

_Marry me._


	32. Chapter 32

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**FANG POV:**

The whole time that I'd been planning on this whole deal: Valentine's Day, finances, a house, everything, my plans had always ended with her saying yes, and us living happily ever after. But then when I actually got there, awaiting her arrival, and then when she was in my arms, that flash of something across her eyes, I was struck with the sudden fear of her rejection.

That lasted for way longer than I had hoped.

She was frozen for so long, like time had literally just stopped and there she was, lips half parted, eyes open and beautiful, hair blowing in the wind. After awhile, I just _knew_ that she was going to say. No. She was going to say _no._ She wouldn't dump me, and I wouldn't dump her, but she wouldn't say yes. Because she's Max. And having a boyfriend was one thing, but having a husband was another. And she's Max, so she can do it on her own.

Her mouth open and closed a few times before she whispered my name.

My _real _name.

Weird as fuck, right?

My eyes searched hers, for something, anything. I couldn't figure her out. Ever. And especially not now.

"Marry me?" I say like an idiot, and she smiles, almost as if she feels bad for me, that I have no hope as far as romantic words go. I'd had this whole speech made up, that included childhood memories and how I felt about her, but it all seemed to slip my mind. I pulled out the ring, held it up, took her hand, started saying random stuff that I was making up as fast as my tiny little brain would allow, but all I could think was:

_I am so stupid._

"I love you," I said, looking hard at her even though it killed me to do so. "More than anything in the whole world. You're my whole world. And I can't imagine a life without you, because you're part of me. Forever. Be my wife? Be mine forever?"

Please don't point out how dumb that sounded. It will only make me feel worse.

She just looked at me.

I waited.

Then she said, "Fang, can we talk about this?"

BAD SIGN.

I wanted to just die right there. Don't mean to be like Romeo or anything, all dramatic _I'm going to kill myself every five minutes_ or anything, but I seriously wished that the ground could just open up, swallow me whole.

The ground failed me.

Max was crying.

I was crying.

Fuck Valentine's Day.

Fuck St. Valentine, marrying couples underground or whatever.

Fuck it _all._

"Never mind," I muttered, standing up, brushing off my knees. She looked at me, eyes all watery, like it was hurting _her_ that she didn't want to be my wife, and then she looked out to the water, where all the lights were glowing, still. I walked a few feet over, stomping on the _release_ button so that all the strings that were holding the letters together were loosened, and they slowly floated away on their own, scattering, taking my words back.

"There's a car waiting," I said to the air as I passed her, and she grabbed onto my bicep. "What?" I spat.

She cringed at my tone.

Then she took her hand, wiped both of my cheeks before cupping one in her hand. "Don't cry," she whispered, her voice breaking into a million pieces, fragile. "I just..."

I waited.

"...I can't marry you. I can't marry _anybody_. I want to be with you, and I'm in love with you, it's just...why do we have to...can't it just be how it is now?"

No. Because how we were now, you can go away. I can lose you. You're not mine.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," I mumbled, but didn't move to go, instead fiddling with the phone in my pocket. "Wanna get some Taco Bell? I'm starving."

I'm _dying_.

And I was. Not metaphorically speaking, either. I seriously was.

Cancer, all that shit.

Been goin' to therapy, but that only works for so long, and then the last time he just told me straight up. Put his hand on my shoulder, took off those square rimmed glasses that he wore, said, "The treatment's not working, son. You only have so much left. They are completely unsuccessful. There's nothing more that we can do."

I asked, "How much longer?"

Glanced away, then at his coat, like he hated this part. Everything else was fine—the surgeries and the mothers in labor, and the hemorrhaging—but this, this telling someone that they had an expiration date, this was the worst part of his job. Looked into my eyes, said, "We're estimating about twenty three, twenty four months." He says this like he's known forever.

I nodded, said thanks, paid my bill, went home. Max wasn't there, she was out with a girl from our building. I thought that I should probably tell her, but that wouldn't help anything. She'd just be sad, or pissed, and it would ruin the two years that I had left. She came home, all smiles and giggles and kisses, and I made her chocolate chip cookies, she fell asleep on my shoulder after we watched _Zoolander. _I carried her into our bed, laid her down, took off her jeans, slid her into one of my t-shirts. Traced her flushed cheeks with my finger, thought about Valentine's Day the next month. Made plans.

Kissed her goodnight.

And that was that.

"You...what?" she asked. "Taco Bell?"

I shrugged. "I made reservations there. Fancy." Smirked at her, peeled her fingers off of my cheek, and took long strides to the car. When she got there, she sat in the passenger seat, dazed. I canceled the reservations that I'd made via text (it's amazing what Apple can do). She didn't relax all the way there, didn't respond when I asked her what she wanted, so I just ordered her favorite. Crunch Wrap Supreme.

When we got home, she sat down at the dining room table, and I sat across from her, even though we'd both decided that we weren't hungry and our food was in the fridge.

"So," I said. I wasn't crying anymore, but there was still this huge lump in my throat, threatening to make me do so. She was still crying, though.

Max looked at me. "Don't make this change anything, Fang." Like that was even possible. "Please don't."

It took us four more months to get back to being regular: just like we were pre-proposal. In love, horny, and comfortable. Normal.

Only one month after that, and I'd almost asked her to marry me again. I still had the ring, and she was so gorgeous, and I loved her so much, and I was going to be dead soon—I had every reason to ask her to marry me. It wasn't like I was going to find anyone else, you know?

I did not. I am not foolish. Just in love.

And two months after that, the unexpected happened.

Seven months after my proposal, _Maximum fucking Ride..._proposed.

Kind of.

It was a very Max-like move. Sneaky. Hot. Unexpected. Totally catching me off-guard.

We were watching a movie (we never watched movies with marriage proposals anymore; too awkward) on the couch, and she was in my lap. Max was in this silky nightie that barely touched her upper thighs, and was cut down low. I'd been trying to get it off of her all night, but she'd just readjusted herself so that I couldn't, totally giving me blue balls, since when she wasn't rejecting me, she was teasing me by moving around and wiggling in my lap.

"I'm going to go take a quick shower," I said, because I _really_ needed to jack off.

She said, "No. Stay here. I know you're just going to jerk off."

Damn.

Sometimes I forget that my girlfriend is a super mind reading genius.

I sighed, settling back onto the couch. She crawled over to me, straddling my lap and loping her arms around my neck. Pressing her lips roughly to mine, then tracing the bottom one with her tongue, dancing with mine. Tugging on my hair. My hands hard on her back, then down over the curve of her ass, holding the back of her thighs, spreading them, her practically doing the splits. My shirt coming undone. One of my hands coming up to untie the back of her nightie. My pants tight, my belt coming undone—

"Fang."

I hate when she does this. Talks when we're in the moment as if she wants to stop and have a conversation.

I say, "Yeah?" still eating at her neck, licking her, biting her, wanting her.

"I want to be your wife."

Then I had a heart attack and died.

(: just went to this: 8===D

Oh wait, that's a penis. I get all my emoticons mixed up sometimes.

(: just went to _this_: DX

(I think that means...death?)

Anyway, just kidding.

But I thought I did, at first. My heart stopped beating. My breathing stopped. I probably _could have _died if she hadn't hit me. Hard, on the chest, snapping me out of it.

"Wait...what?"

She looked away, like this was any time to be shy. "Yeah."

I did an inner fist pump. Or maybe an outer one, too. I don't remember. I was too lost.

"But I thought you didn't want to..."

"But now I want to!" she exclaimed, holding onto me tighter. "Well, if _you_ still want to..."

My answer was finishing untying that fucking nightie. Because the sex is so much hotter after you realize that you're going to have this girl until you died. Which, in my case, was only sixteen months, but still.

And so we were engaged. We decided on a wedding in January, not one of those couples to plan weddings for a year ahead, and I was going to take her to Hawaii for our honeymoon, because she's always wanted to go their since she was a kid. Everything was good, we were both happy, and then—

Max decided to pay the bills.

When I returned from work, she was on the computer, and as soon as I saw the website up, I freaked. "What are you doing!"

She looked startled, then smiled beautifully. "I have to learn to be a good wife. You work, I clean and do the finances."

She was really excited about this whole marriage thing.

I smiled back. "It's okay, I can do them."

I guess I didn't disguise my defensiveness well enough, because she asked, "Why? You got something to hide? Been buying Playboy magazines? Hiring a prostitute?"

As if I didn't have enough stimulation with that goddess _living in my bed_ (except when she was cleaning or...apparently, paying the bills).

"No!" I screamed. "I just..."

But she was already looking at my credit card bill, her face was already falling, the amounts of money used toward the hospital bills were screaming at her, killing her.

Tears falling down her face. She knew something was wrong. She was a smart girl.

She turned to me, jaw locked, eyes behind gallons and gallons of tears. "Are you sick?"

I almost said no, made up an excuse, shot one out at her. But instead I slowly nodded. I couldn't lie any longer.

She was squeezing her hands together so tight: going to cut off the circulation, her skin was a watermelon sucked of its juices: pale, pink, white, I wanted to untangle them—_stop, it's okay, you're going to stop the blood flow, let go, relax._

I stayed frozen.

"What's wrong with you?"

I said, "Cancer."

She didn't ask what kind.

Instead, she glanced away, and I knew that she was hoping that when she turned back, the truth would disappear, everything would be okay again. But it would not, and so she forced herself to look back at me, and forced herself to ask me how long I had to live.

I forced myself to tell her the truth: "About a year. Fourteen months."

She asked me how long I had know this. I told her that I found out I had cancer four years ago.

She looked beautiful, in a new way: she looked murderous, but not at me. She looked loving, she looked like her world was falling apart, like she wanted to kill whatever did this. Eyes dangerous, wonderful, on fire, drowning. Then she reached out for my hand, but she was weak, and it just flailed there: a baby reaching out for something to hold onto. I took it, weaved our fingers, picked her up into my arms, then into my lap as I sank down onto the floor. Her face pressed into my neck, her arms clutched around me, she breathed in and out, in and out, in and out, in and—

cried harder than I'd ever seen anyone cry, and it was so heartbreaking, so scary, so deafening, so terrible that I cannot explain it and so instead I will just stop.


	33. Epilogue

**This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93.**

**Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.**

**EPILOGUE**

**MAX POV:**

Fang died two months after our wedding, exactly. On March 27. We'd just gotten back from our three week honeymoon in Hawaii, the most beautiful and wonderful time that I'd had in forever, when he had to go into the hospital. He was too weak.

I stayed by his bedside the whole time.

I'd never witnessed anything as heartbreaking as the destroying weakness in the strongest man I know.

He tried to be strong, but it just got to that point where fighting back was an impossibility, and it was better to give up than to try and fight for something that would never be possible again. He'd sit in that bed, get treatment so often, and in the other time talk to me, write his will. The rest of the family was staying in a hotel nearby, and they visited often. Iggy was so torn up about it. The only time that I would leave his side was when he was in the room: when they'd just laugh and have their time together. When I'd go in later, Iggy was always crying, Fang was always sleeping.

Heart break.

And Fang would always talk to me, whenever he was awake. He'd talk about everything, and anything, and he'd try to distract me, but nothing could erase the sheets that he lay underneath, and how they were a prologue to his death, and how he was going to be gone so soon, my Fang, my best friend, my lover, just gone.

Counting down the days.

I

was

dying.

Just as much as he was. My heart, being torn apart, a thousand knives digging deep, and then pulling back slow, tearing me apart, killing everything inside of me, twisting my feelings, making me feel lifeless. I didn't eat. I was losing so much weight. I didn't do anything. I talked to Fang, and I was with Fang, and I twirled the ring on my finger, and I twirled the ring on his finger, and I cried and I cried and I cried and I cried, and I was being torn apart, I was without life. I was just a ghost. And I'd throw up, but I could not throw up the bitter taste of knowing that my only reason to live was going to be gone in such little time.

And so.

I tried to commit suicide.

I told Fang of this, how I felt about this whole thing, how I was hurting so much. I wished that I'd never loved at all. Because then it wouldn't feel this way: hot needles stabbing at every centimeter of my being. Then, I would be able to live—instead, I'm dying.

Being killed by another's being killed.

The worst way to die: your heart hurting so much that it disappears.

That's me.

Me: a little ball of air and nothingness, trapped inside of a body, watching the love of my life die right before my eyes, trying to escape, wishing that I could, knowing that I couldn't.

And there's him: watching me suffer.

And so we are equal, for once. He's always been better, more beautiful and wonderful, but now we're equal, and I love him as he loves me, and seeing the other die is killing us both, so why didn't we just stop?

Because life can do the most horrible things.

Because life...it is not fair, it is not kind, it is not happiness.

Life is full of these things that happen, and full of these things that ruin lives, and ruin people, and Life...it deserves to die. Not Fang. Not us. We don't deserve to die out, because our love was something that Life did not allow to many. And so this is what Life did. It chose us, made us happy, only to flip us over, crumble us into a ball, stomp on us, spit in our faces, laugh a shrill laugh. Life is the evil: it's not the serial killers or the murders or the Nazis or the economic depressions. It is: the disasters, the things that make your heart wish that it would stop beating, but still having it go on: _thump, thump, thump, thump, _when all you ever wanted, _all you ever want,_ is for it to stop.

And yet, I am staring into a cold face, one that used to love me, one that Life has made so that it can love me no more.

People surround me, tons of people, tons of sad people, and yet I feel more alone than I do when I am at home by myself. Just being able to think, and know that somewhere, my Fang is thinking of me—I'm lonely no more. But now, it's not there, and when I think of Fang, I'll be forced to think:

Gravestones

Death

Family

Tears

Lifeless

Cold

No

More

and Life, it did this to me.

Life, it does terrible things.

I'm a ghost, I am less than that, even. I'm floating, I can't feel: the hair whipping my cheek, the buttons in my shirt, the skirt clinging to my thighs, the heels on my feet, I can only feel: the haunting darkness leaking from his soul to mine, polluting, grasping, holding, killing me.

There's one thing on my mind: to get in the car, to drive across the country, to drive anywhere. Maybe crash, hopefully die on the way. Maybe a drunk driver, maybe tires spinning out of control, maybe a police chase. Anything, to take me out of this misery. But Life, it does those terrible things, it kills my soul and my heart and my body and my mind but it does not do what I ask: it does not take me with my love.

I feel like my throat is closing in: tears are clogging it.

I get in the front seat now, and look over at the box in the passenger seat: it's full of letters. Fang wrote them to me, and he wanted me to read them, like being reminded of how much he loved me, and just being reminded of _him_ was going to help me let go, because there was no such thing.

Me and Fang.

Never anything else, because there was never anything better.

Nothing could ever be better than Fang and I were: soulmates.

Forever, it's ending, and nothing is more terrifying than that.

Promises broken. Vows dying. Flames burning out.

I'm burning out. I can feel it, the ache in my bones and the churning in my stomach that makes me feel like I'm either going to do one of two things: die or throw up everything inside of my body. I hope the first.

My engine: revving up, ready to go anywhere but here, amongst shadows and ghosts and frozen tears.

I can't do it. I know that I can't do it. This whole life thing, I can't do it alone. Me, giving up, one of the things nobody thought that they'd ever see. Me, giving up, driving down the road, getting out of the car to go meet up with a friend at the bar. Me sneaking into the back, going through the drawers, throwing papers everywhere, not bothering to look at what they said, and there it is.

Me pulling the trigger, giving up, but going somewhere.

Going to be with the one person that would understand what I'm feeling now.


End file.
